Fields of Feuds
by Jusrecht
Summary: [AU fantasy] The war has begun between the Kingdom of ZAFT and the Alliance. Two best friends, separated years ago, are now involved in this war. In opposing sides. [eventual AC and KL]
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **All the characters and half of the plot are taken from Gundam SEED and GS Destiny, which means they are not mine.

**WARNINGS:**

1. This story, unlike my other fanfictions, is an AU (Alternate Universe) – fantasy RPG story, which has no relation whatsoever to Gundamnian world. I, however, do take the characters, places, some relationships, and parts of the plot from Gundam SEED (and later, probably, Destiny). Please note that a fantasy story tends to contain many unexplainable and incomprehensible things.

2. About the characters, I take my liberty to determine how old they are in this story and the relationships they have with each other. There is also a huge possibility of OOC-ness.

3. As I have mentioned, the main pairings of this story **will be** Athrun/Cagalli and Kira/Lacus. However, the twists and turns I will put in here may enable other pairings (such as Athrun/Lacus or Kira/Cagalli) to develop along the way. For those who cannot withstand this (or the thought of their favorite pairing being split), I advise you to leave, or read at your own risk.

4. As the genre states, this is an Action/Adventure/Drama story. There will be romance ahead, but if you are looking for a pure romance story, this is not your cup of tea.

5. I was a shounen-ai fangirl and still am. I will admit that writing straight story is still a new thing for me, and Gundam SEED is one of the few series which can force me to rephrase my opinion about anime girls in general. The female characters here are simply fabulous. What I need to say is that I may – deliberately or not – insert several hints of male/male interaction here. I will remind myself limit these as hints, but if it displeases you, please remember that you have been warned.

6. My chronic disease: I am a late updater. A very late one, as a matter of fact.

* * *

**Fields of Feuds**

**Author: Jusrecht**

**Chapter One**

**

* * *

**

There was a flare of blinding light twisting the dark evening sky.

Miriallia Haww was not quick enough to prevent the thunder that followed soon after from violently pounding her eardrums. From under her hood, she sent an annoyed look to the rumbling clouds and pulled the old soaking cloth tighter around her face. No point though, she thought bitterly, there was no part of her that had not been drenched by the fierce raindrops. The thin material also did close to nothing to keep her body heat. Milli ground her teeth together in desperation, wishing that she had waited at the bread store she worked at until the downpour subsided a little. Heliopolis during the spring was purely intolerable, despite the beauty she often enjoyed at the meadow full of flowers.

After another few minutes trudging in the rain, she arrived before a door of a small two-story house, sidestepping a large puddle of mud in process. A glance to the edge of her dress told her that she would have a pain of a laundry to do. Mud was not particularly easy to be washed down.

Her hand reached up to a small alcove at the top-right side of the door, fingers fumbling in the dark until they found a row of chains. With a light tug, Milli pulled the one in the middle first, then the left one, and to finish, the right one. Even amidst the rain beating the earth, her ears caught a familiar clacking sound and she quickly pushed the wooden door open, making her way in.

The house was dark and almost as cold inside. She frowned; Kuzzey had forgotten to light the fire again. There was a faint repetitive sound of metal meeting metal above the drumming rain from his small workshop. Of course, if he were there working, the red heat from his open hearth would be enough to let him forget that the temperature beyond his forge had dropped considerably due to the monsoon.

Quietly Milli slipped out of her mud-caked shoes and paced across the house to a door below the stairs. Raising her hand, she placed a train of knocks on its rough surface.

"Master?"

No answer came. Slightly anxious, Milli opened the door and had a look inside. Her coldness was momentarily forgotten as she let out a relieved sigh at the sight that greeted her. Inside the room, fire was crackling merrily in a small hearth and on the solitary bed at the far end of the room, a man of the age of fifty was sleeping soundly. Apparently Kuzzey was not as irresponsible as she had originally thought.

But it was completely understandable to worry, she found herself arguing internally. The alchemist Yulen Hibiki was a man who had taken care of her since she had been twelve, a lonely child orphaned by the war. Milli remembered perfectly the girl she once had been – vacant eyes, dirty tear-streaked cheeks, bony hands, aching stomach – and how she had sat for days at the remaining of her burned house after the great war. The city of Jachin Due fell into OMNI's hand but they soon left the town in ruins to hurry to the next one, eager to taste more wine of victory from the Kingdom of ZAFT.

And there, amidst the dying flames of Jachin, the alchemist found her and took her with him. He was traveling across the country to seek out the truth of a legend in the world of alchemy with his apprentice, Kira Yamato, an orphan from the city of PLANT. It was then when their journey together was begun.

Everywhere they went, traces of war could be felt and seen. She knew very little of politics, but when she saw children with the same fate as hers and people dying in her arms, soaked with blood, despising both OMNI and ZAFT was not difficult. The master tried hard to save lives with his extensive knowledge of potions and medicine, but he often met those beyond his help and she could only weep when they took their last breath with a strangled gasp. It was fortunate that two years ago, when both of she and Kira were fifteen, the alchemist eventually decided to settle at Heliopolis, a small quiet town ruled by OMNI, where they later met Tolle Koenig, Ssigh Argyle, and Kuzzey Buskirk.

With the six of them living together there in the small house, Milli finally could recall her younger happier times.

Once she wondered why Hibiki-san had bothered to take in the homeless boys since their meeting actually occurred when the tree were attempting to rob her. It was a good thing that Alchemy was not the only art she and Kira had learned from their master. Now she thought she understood.

She had known for while that the alchemist's health was not as prime as he often displayed in public, and that he regularly took some potions to keep his strength. However, his condition had steadily worsened since a year ago despite his attempt to appear normal in front of his foster children. And it was last week when he no longer could carry out his act, obviously not with blood dripping from his mouth. The physician at Heliopolis found nothing he could do to help, but then Kira found out in their master's book the existence of a remedy called _Itzamna_ that might be able to cure the illness.

It had been five days since Kira set out to the city of Banadia. Seeing as the city was one ruled under Kingdom of ZAFT, he had insisted to journey alone. The others finally concurred after a long argument for he was simply the most-suited person to go among them, given his many abilities. Still, Milli could not help but worry about him. Crossing the border would only be the beginning.

As quiet as possible, she closed the door and went to her own room. A pile of wet clothing was noticeable on the cold wooden floor as soon as she had finished changing. Feeling much warmer than she had been earlier, the brown-haired girl put the smudged clothes into a large bucket at the kitchen, wondering how muddy the others' clothes would be. Ssigh worked at the Alster household, practically at the other side of the town, while Tolle was notorious for his talent to get himself dirty even on the finest days.

Then, suddenly she realized that cicadas were singing and the rain had stopped.

With a lighter heart, Milli lit up several candles and lanterns to give the main room a soft glow, and frowned when she noticed there was no firewood left next to the main room's hearth. Quickly she hurried to the kitchen, finding that all she had was a small stack by the cookstove. That explained a lot. Burn the last ones and they would be eating cold bread only for the night.

She was halfway in preparing dinner when a loud sound told her that someone was trying to get into the house without knowing the lock combination. Milli left her semi-boiling stew and found out that her hearing was right. A large heavy lump of wood was now blocking the door from being opened. It was a simple mechanism developed by Hibiki-san to prevent any breaking and entering, given how many valuable scrolls of information he had regarding the legend he was pursuing. A similar mechanism had been applied to every door that led outside, including the one to Kuzzey's workshop.

For a moment, Milli eyed the door apprehensively. She was debating with herself whether to open it or ask Kuzzey to take a peek who it was when a well-known voice came from behind said door.

"Milli, it's me! Open up!"

A relieved sigh escaped her lips and she proceeded to unbolt the door. It was Tolle's grinning face that greeted her, his slightly drenched dark-brown hair almost black in the night air.

"Oops."

Milli raised her eyebrows. "Not good enough."

"I thought the combination was right-middle-left," he defended himself under her pointed look.

"We changed it this morning to middle-left-right, remember?" she sighed and made a way for him. Only and only because it would be troublesome for her, she had decided to spare Tolle from the detail that it was _him_ who had suggested changing the combination due to Kira's absence. The next thing that caught her attention was the fine state of his clothes apart from their usual dirt. Obviously Tolle had waited for the rain to subside before returning home. Smart of him.

"Don't forget to lock the door. I have to continue cooking now if we want to have dinner on time," Milli said and turned back to the kitchen. Silently Tolle followed her with his eyes, admiring the graceful way she moved across the room. She had fascinated him since the day they had met. Never once he had met a girl who was brave enough to draw a dagger against her robber. Ssigh and Kuzzey also had not had much luck in threatening Kira. They clearly had chosen the wrong victim, but for several reasons, Tolle was glad they had.

Miriallia herself had yet to give any clear sign of her opinion of him. That and the fact that Kira had a dangerous protective streak toward her. It was to be expected since they had been living and growing up together for as long as five years now, but luckily for him, they did not seem to develop any feeling beyond loyal friendship, close to siblings care. Kira's face on that day when he put his knife on Milli's neck would be forever engraved to his memory and would always counsel him to handle this attraction matter more delicately. It was probable that the slightly younger boy had not forgotten his previous choice of career.

The three of them had not had many choices back then. They had been stealing since they had been able to remember and change of occupation had seemed too troublesome. Tolle had always prided his speed, which truly had allowed for no rival in Heliopolis until Hibiki's party arrived. Sometimes he did wonder if there was anything Kira was _not _good at.

Not that it was important right now, he admonished himself at the thought of their resting guardian. Hibiki was not only the person who offered him a place to come home to, but also the man who gave him a meaning to the word 'father'. And his 'father' was now ailing, his illness unknown. Definitely not the time to think about petty crushes.

After locking the door and hoisting the block of wood to its waiting place, Tolle marched to Kuzzey's workshop. A gust of scorching wind assailed him as he opened the connecting door.

"Hey, Kuz," he called, raising his voice to rival the sound of hammer shaping half-molten iron. "It's past dusk already, you know. The blade won't kill you if you finish it tomorrow."

"No, it won't, but its master will!" the black-haired boy hissed in panic, not bothering to look up from his hammer.

Tolle leant back to the wall, leaving the door to stay ajar – the temperature inside a forge was not something he was used to regardless the fact that he had practically grown up with a blacksmithing craze. He crossed his arm in front of his chest, muttering distastefully, "The OMNI Guards again, eh?"

"They suddenly stormed in here this evening and demanded for their swords to be sharpened," Kuzzey complained to no one in particular, his hand turning the sword to work on its other side. Suddenly he raised his head, shooting the other boy with horrified looks, and howled, "They want me to do eight swords for tomorrow! How in earth can I do that, Tolle?"

Unfortunately, the brown-haired boy knew even less about forging than he did concerning hygiene and could only answer with a blank look. He still remembered the other day when his friend had postponed his job on an OMNI soldier's sword and the beating he had received the day after. Nothing had gone well since the town had been swarmed by soldiers anxiously waiting to be called for duty at the Castle of Panama, a nearby stronghold which guarded the area from the Kingdom of ZAFT.

The problem was, he thought angrily, soldiers generally did not care for villagers and peasants. Heliopolis obviously was not a big town, nothing like Panama, but it didn't mean they could trample the town's people as they pleased. With an upset look, he watched how his friend repeatedly wrought the blade, eye fixed on his anvil, unbothered by beads of sweat that were dripping from his temple. Still dedicated despite the long queue of his work – it was why the blades he made were very good. Kuzzey's hands however, red with heat and excessive pressure, began to warn him of what might happen to the muscles below the flushing skin if his friend did not stop soon.

"Anything I can help with?" he decided to ask sympathetically.

"No," the other boy's answer was quick and sharp. "You destroyed my six-hours-worth-of-hard-work masterpiece the last time you tried to help and I'll be sure to die if you ruin this."

"Well I'm sorry for that, but no need for you to be so sarcastic," Tolle snapped back, his own temper rising. "Saying only 'no' shouldn't be too hard."

He was about to leave the workshop when Kuzzey's hammer stopped pounding and its owner's voice rose, brimmed with guilt and embarrassment. "I'm sorry too, Tolle. I was just– I don't meant to be that rude."

It was probably the high temperature, Tolle found himself contemplating his vanishing anger. Heat and pressure tended to lessen one's patience and he himself had not been having a good time working at the farm today. They absolutely did not need more conflicts among themselves. Glancing back across his shoulders, he accepted the peace offering with a grin and said, "I'll let you know if dinner is ready."

Once the door was closed, his attention was averted to the delicious aroma floating in the air inside the house. He strode to the source and peeked from the kitchen threshold. "What is that delightful smell?"

"Tolle, good that you come," Milli turned around from her cookstove, smiling, a bowl of steaming broth on her hand. "Can you bring the pot and the bread to the table? Oh, and help me setting up the table too. I have to give this stew to Hibiki-san first."

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered sincerely with a mock gesture of bowing. She only snorted at that and trotted past him, but there was an amused smile on her lips that he could not possibly miss. Heart leaping with a new surge of bliss, Tolle quickly did as she said, carefully lifting the pot with an unused rag. Milli made the best stews and gods only know how long she had been practicing to make them, given how often she did not have the ingredients to prepare a fancier meal. They were not living a luxurious life, but they were happy. Not to mention Milli had an impressive knowledge regarding spices, which made it possible for her to cook stews with various tastes, each always enjoyably delicious.

He was placing a candle in the middle of the table when Milli came out from Hibiki-san's room with an upset look on her face. He immediately noticed the half-finished stew, and then said soothingly, "Don't worry too much. It's an improvement compared to yesterday."

She held his gaze for a moment and sighed, a little smile emerging. "I guess you're right. And Kira is bound to return these days, right?"

All he could offer was an encouraging nod, not having the heart to point out that the younger boy might not return so soon – if not at all. Crossing the border was a crime and even though Kira's wide-ranging abilities were nothing to be taken lightly, the conflicts between OMNI and ZAFT had already been so severe that borders and coasts were heavily guarded to prevent any infiltration. He merely hoped that Kira would have the common sense to go back before he was involved in a situation he could not escape from, like getting captured and accused as a spy.

Prying off the grim thought from his head, Tolle looked away and found a distraction in an unlit hearth. "You're not lighting the fire?"

"We've run out of firewood," Milli replied apologetically and resumed her walk to the kitchen. "The last ones were for cooking. Sorry that I forgot to ask any of you to look for more yesterday."

"We got a lot of things in our mind," he mumbled to himself and continued to stare at the empty hearth. It was not that one of them would really mind the cold after eating the hot stew, but Hibiki-san was quite prone to it because of the illness. He tapped a finger on the table. Should he search for more after dinner? If he did not stray too far into the forest, nothing could possibly happen. Or maybe Kuzzey had coals to be spared.

Immersed too deep in his thought, he practically jumped when a voice came from the outside. "Hey guys, open the door."

It was Ssigh. Tolle was entertaining the idea that he was not the only one who had accidentally forgotten the lock combination when he noticed that it wasn't his friend's face that he was looking at but a pile of woods. He blinked and stared at it for a moment before articulating tentatively, "Uh, Ssigh?"

"Well, give me a hand, Tolle," the blonde boy's face appeared beside the towering heap with a scowl.

"Sure," the other boy quickly responded and took half of the pile. "Nice timing you have there. We've totally run out of these."

"I thought so," Ssigh shrugged, closing the door with his foot. "Good thing that I noticed this pile lying around before returning home. Don't worry, I'll replace it tomorrow."

Tolle put his share of pile next to the hearth and throw his friend a smirk across the shoulder while his hands were proficiently setting up nice warm fire. "Oh, so now you are privileged to do this kind of things because you're hitting on the young lady of the house? Way to go, Ssigh. Keep doing that and we will soon be loaded."

"I'm _not _hitting on her," the other boy glared reprovingly. "We like each other and I don't see why you should make a comment while you haven't made a move for yourself yet."

They were ready to have a glaring contest when Miriallia appeared from the kitchen, holding a plate of crushed yellowish spices. Her face brightened when she noticed the abundant heap of firewood and she smiled at the newly arrived boy. "You remember, Ssigh! Thank you for that. Now, shall we begin our meal? Tolle, please fetch Kuzzey."

The dinner was – if it were to be described in one word – _peaceful_, which was unsurprising for there were two empty chairs among them. Conversation was carefully maneuvered as to avoid several subjects, such as their guardian's poor health, and resulted in Kuzzey whining for most of the dinner about the work he had done and would still do after finishing his meal.

"I'm not too familiar with blacksmithing, but maybe I can help," Ssigh offered as he reached for more bread.

"Thanks, that will be a great help," Kuzzey gladly received, smiling brightly at his blonde friend. From across the table Tolle shot him an injured look but did not pursue the subject.

"But it's sort of odd for the guards to require sharpening their swords all at once," Ssigh commented and took a large bite of his bread thoughtfully.

"It's the war, what else?" Tolle answered with a sour tone. "Alda – you remember the guy? The one with big muscles at the farm – told me that war had broken at Gibraltar. Seems that OMNI is trying to take it away from ZAFT. Not much hope, I think, unless our leaders have come up with a good strategy. Rumors say that it's the strongest citadel ZAFT has ever built and because of its position, we can only attack it from water."

"A' phink youv faid," Kuzzey joined in, mouth still half full of bread. He swallowed it first under Milli's glare before repeating, "I think you're right. The soldiers were talking about it too when they came to the workshop, saying there was an urgent need for reinforcements there. They also mentioned that the one leading ZAFT Army at Gibraltar was a seventeen-year old guy! Can you believe it? I mean, he's at the same age with us!"

Ssigh finished his stew and frowned at his friends's information. "I've never thought ZAFT is lacking manpower. Why would they use a kid to lead such a huge army? And Gibraltar is far from here. Those soldiers should be a squad stationed at Panama. They don't have anything to do with the assault of Gibraltar."

"It's just a guess," Kuzzey mumbled defensively.

"Just another guess," Tolle spoke up again, "probably they are panicking because of the rebellion movement. The Archangel is getting bolder each time. I heard they managed to wreak quite a havoc at Alaska."

Silence descended among them as they finished their meal, each occupied by his or her own thought. No one dared to cut the taut quietness until Milli took the risk and asked, "Do any of you think that we need to move out?"

The boys were – fortunately – saved from any obligation to provide a reply by a train of loud knocks coming from the front door. Ssigh instantly jumped to his feet and grabbed a sword that was hung purposefully at the wall near the door, his face contorted in nervousness since they seldom had a visitor at night. His tense muscles visibly relaxed when a soft yet frantic voice floated from the other side of the door. "Ssigh! Are you in there?"

"It's Fllay," he mouthed to his friends and almost as immediate, puzzled over his own answer. Why would the young lady of Alster visit him? They probably had crossed the line of servant-and-master but they did the utmost to keep their relationship a secret all the way. Still perplexed by the unexpected visitor, he unlocked the door and almost fell backward when a young woman in hood flew across the threshold into his arms.

"Fllay? What hap–"

"You have to get out of here!" Panic was written all over her face as the hood gave way, revealing her flaming crimson hair. Ssigh was still eyeing her in bewilderment when she grabbed his shoulders, shaking him fiercely. "They are coming here, Ssigh! They only want your guardian and will kill the rest of you! You have to go now!"

"What do you mean kill the rest of us?" Tolle cut in from the table, an uneasy look on his face.

The young lady glanced at him, then returned her gaze back to her secret lover, distress still evident in her rushed explanation. "There was this man from the military coming to our house this evening. After you left, I was about to speak with my father and I accidentally heard this– this foul plan to abduct an alchemist named Yulen Hibiki and burn this place! He said that the rest of you were to be killed!" She clutched his worn-out tunic tightly. "Please, Ssigh, you must go!"

At the end of her words, Milli who had been listening suddenly sprang to her feet. "I have to take Master and flee," she said resolutely, her voice edgy but unwavering.

"We'll go with you," an immediate response came from Tolle. He grinned wryly when she gave him an uncertain look. "You didn't think we were going to abandon you alone with Hibiki-san, did you? We'll be killed if we stay behind anyway."

"Right," Ssigh agreed, determination steeling within him. "Kuzzey, you get any weapon we can use while Tolle and I are preparing other things. Milli, please wake Hibiki-san up. I know he's not well but we have to take the risk. It must be his research they're after." Then he turned back to the red-haired lady. "Shouldn't you be getting back now, Fllay? If your father knows you've been here–"

"I shall stay," she answered briskly, "at least until you leave."

Ssigh was about to argue when the door was pounded from the outside. "Open up! This is the Alliance Guard!"

The two youngsters could only looked at each other in horror at the riotous voices. Once the guards tried to force their way in, the lock was triggered and sealed the door with a large lumber. A moment later, there were heavy poundings and sounds of wood being crushed following.

"They're using a ram," Ssigh muttered in disbelief. "They know about the lock."

Kuzzey reappeared from his workshop, bows shouldered, swords and daggers gripped shakily. "What should we do now?"

"We'll get through the back door!" Tolle exclaimed, practically jumping down from the stairs with a small bag hung down from his shoulder. He snatched a middle-length sword from Kuzzey and ran to Hibiki's room. "Milli! We have to go now!"

Right at that moment, the door gave way and fell with a sickening crash. A number of armed guards rushed in, swords unsheathed and ready to assault as Tolle emerged from Hibiki's chamber, freezing at the doorway. A man at his late thirty stepped inside the house, his attire noble and proud, a haughty look painted across his stern face. He cast a glance around the room and its helpless occupants with a sort of self-satisfaction, hand set menacingly on the hilt of his sword.

"We are searching for Yulen Hibiki, formerly the royal alchemist of ZAFT," his voice was unpleasant, almost sinister. When none of his hostages reacted, he glared at his underlings. "Search for him! I want him here now!"

Thoughts rushing in and out his head, Ssigh felt numb. Hibiki-san; he had never known the man had been a royal alchemist, moreover ZAFT's. Kira and Milli had never mentioned it. Everything went as a blur for a moment before he felt a hand roughly yanking him, pushing him outside into the night. Somewhere behind him Fllay was screaming desperately.

"Fllay!"

The voice startled him and put the screaming to an end at once. The red-haired girl stared in horror at an aristocratic figure of a man, whom Ssigh recognized immediately as his employer. The lord was looking at her with a mix of shock and anger, obviously was not expecting his one and only daughter to be involved there in the mess, and then shifted his heated gaze to him, howling furiously, "I know there is something about you! You've been trying to seduce my–"

A red yellowish light flared and the noble lord was forced to cease his furious indictment to look in disbelief at his daughter. She was chanting faintly and tongue of flames in shape of arrowheads appeared from her palms, sprinting their way to a guard who was holding Ssigh immobile. She stared at him, begging with her eyes for him to flee when suddenly the blazing fire disappeared and he was still rooted to the ground, watching her falling to the damp soil with a thud. Looming next to her was the earlier man, his right hand still coiled into a fist which had made her unconscious.

"Quite a magic she has mastered there, Lord Alster," the man sneered, flicking a distasteful gaze at the half-burning guard who was running wildly into the town. "But I suppose we need not your little daughter's interference right now, do we?"

For a moment, the lord only stared angrily at his fellow nobleman, then moved to gather his unconscious daughter in his arms, answering curtly, "I understand, General."

Ssigh had barely registered the fact that another guard had taken hold of him in a significantly more violent manner when Milli's suppressed gasp made him look up. In mounting desperation, he noticed that his three friends had also been captured, and Hibiki-san was carried out by a guard, clearly unconscious. Another guard approached the general, reporting quickly, "They hurt six of our men inside, Sir. What should we do with them?"

The man eyed Milli's defiant stare for a moment and chuckled. "Women can always be of use at some other fields of work. Take her. Kill the boys."

The blonde boy was ready to lunge forward when he felt the grip of his guard weaken and the tip of a sword which had been aimed at him removed. Astonished, he spun backward and saw a blur of shadow moving fast to where Kuzzey was kneeling in terror next to his brown-haired friend. He recognized the speed and movement instantly.

Kira.

"Hold it right there!"

The warning paused the newly arrived boy – as Ssigh had guessed, it was Kira – from moving and he looked up at the source, his empty hand frozen on Tolle's mud-covered tunic. In shock marred with palpable disgust, he stared at the general holding a short blade against the side of Milli's neck.

"I also find this tremendously repulsive, young man, but I cannot lose another soldier in this minor raid," the man informed him flatly. "Put your sword down or I cannot promise you this young lady's wellbeing."

In silence, heart beating faster and faster in his chest, Ssigh watched this motionless picture and how Kira's eyes darkened under the dim spark of a torch held up by one of the guards. For some reasons, fear began to well up within him. The dread was similar to what he had undergone in his first acquaintance with the younger boy. For a moment, there was still no one making any move, then Kira's voice rang above the wind, low but clear.

"Hurt her if you dare."

Another flash of light, now a brilliant white, blinded his sight temporarily and when he regained his vision, Kira was nowhere to be seen. However, some of the guards, he noticed in extreme bewilderment, were crashing to the earth one by one, as if brought down by an unseen force. Ssigh was watching in awe when a sword was tossed into his direction, which he swiftly grasped and used to counteract a soldier who had come charging at him. The next thing he saw, Milli was no longer under the general's threat, safe in the circle of Kira's left arm.

He noticed the two hesitating for a moment then Tolle shouting, "Kira! We have to get out of here first!"

At the advice, Ssigh looked around and spotted Kuzzey scrambling to his feet not far from him, a few weapons clutched in his left arms. Quickly he grabbed the shorter boy's hand and began to run, following a dim green light soaring just ahead of him. Behind them, their friends' footsteps were audible and he could hear a low chant falling out of Kira's mouth. Suddenly, an earsplitting sound, like Mother Earth roaring in rage spoiled the night, but he didn't allow himself to risk a glance back. Blindly he kept running into the forest, his feet crushing the damp grass on his path, leaving the vanishing sound behind.

Run. Run. Run...

**- To be continued -**

* * *

**Notes:** First of all, I need a beta-reader. The chapters in this story will be quite long that I tend to make silly grammatical mistakes. If there is someone who is interested, I will be very grateful. Please leave your e-mail address in the review. Second, from now on in each chapter, I will present the stats of one character. For the first chapter, the honor goes to Miriallia. This is for my own fun, so don't take it seriously. 

**Miriallia Haww**

Age: 17

Rank: None

Element: Water

Origin: Jachin Due

Statistics:

-- _Strength:_ 81 (good)

-- _Defense:_ 75 (average)

-- _Magic:_ 115 (excellent)

-- _Magic Defense:_ 105 (excellent)

-- _Agility: _103 (excellent)

-- _Accuracy: _117 (excellent)

-- _Stamina: _88 (good)

Specialty: Healing

The stats (especially the specialty section) won't necessarily stay as it is. This is only to give you a general picture of how the character is in the story. However, the stats probably won't meet everyone's satisfaction and if that is the case, I apologize.

Thank you for reading! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

See **DISCLAIMERS** and **WARNINGS **in the first chapter.

**Note:** I will retain one Japanese suffix in this story, which is 'san'. As for 'sama', I will replace it with 'Lord', 'Lady', or other honorary titles. The reason? I just can't bring myself to write 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.', that's all.

* * *

**Fields of Feuds**

**Author: Jusrecht**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

The first thing that Kira found himself noticing beside the darkness which engulfed him was the numbing pain on his right arm. On impulse, he lifted his other hand to soothe the sore spot and immediately found an item he did not recognize as his. He was struggling to open his eyes when a gentle voice reached his ears.

"Kira?"

It was Milli's. His heavy eyelids finally yielded to his wish and let him regain a clearer vision. Looking down at him with an anxious look was Milli's face, a smile blooming on her lips once she was convinced that he had truly woken up. Turning her gaze to somewhere above him, she called out, "Tolle! Bring me some water for Kira here!"

The brown-haired boy approached as was told with a cup made of leaves coalesced together, clear water in it. Kira was about to ask how in earth leaves could be made into something like that when Tolle spoke up, "Feeling better, pal? It's already noon you know?"

It was then when Kira finally realized that his surrounding was bright and clear, and the sun was on her way climbing onto the highest throne up in the cloudless blue firmament. Absentmindedly he noted the sound of water trickling somewhere nearby. Taking a quick sip from the cup Tolle had brought, he inquired with a rasp voice, "When did I fall asleep?"

"You didn't!" the other boy was practically hollering in laughter and he noticed that there was a – though subtler – similar expression on Milli's face. "You fainted, Kira! Don't you remember?" The laughter soon enough subsided under Kira's baffled stare and Tolle settled for just an amused look, sometimes still sprinkled by small chuckles. "Last night when we were running into the woods, you suddenly collapsed onto the ground and when we checked, apparently you had passed out. Milli was panicking so we decided to rest for the night." He chuckled again. "It's a good thing that you chose a location near a river to black out."

"Oh," was what Kira had the only decency to articulate for the moment, fingers distractedly fiddling with the coarse surface of the cup. The events from the previous night came back flooding his memory and he looked up, a wince flitting across his face. "So, Master was..."

Milli met his gaze and reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Yes, but he should be alright. I mean, if the government needs him in some way, they will want him alive, won't they? Master should have been given a better treatment of his illness than we can possibly able to afford."

A long silence met the assumption. Even though Kira agreed to what she had said, he was also worried that his master's stubbornness might lead him to his end. A former royal alchemist. Of course. He had met the man at PLANT when he had been nine, a parentless boy at a rundown orphanage with little confidence but great buried talent at alchemy. When the alchemist had taken him, he remembered he had cried, afraid and lost, but now his master was his closest companion. He saw no reason for the man to tell him what he had been before their first acquaintance, and yet he could not help but to feel somehow excluded from a significant shred of history.

'_What do you know about him anyway?'_ he admonished himself silently, a heavy lump settling on his chest. Vehemently tearing his thoughts from the self-depreciating notion, he forced himself to ask, "Where is Ssigh? And Kuzzey?"

"The two ate your share of fruits I brought back this morning, so I told them to search for more," Tolle handed him the answer with a laid-back fashion. "I have scouted the area. Don't think the guards are pursuing us thanks to the enormous barrier you set up last night."

"I did?" Kira pronounced in growing perplexity, then quickly remembered the magic he had used. "Oh, right, I did."

Tolle rolled his eyes. "Wake up, Kira. We need you sober here."

"By the way," Milli cut in, her eyes carefully observing Kira's, "do you know what was that white light last night? It was like you were emitting the light then vanishing into thin air."

The question to once again ask what she meant was close to slip past his tongue when excited voices rose from the distance. "Hey, Kira! You're awake!"

Two young men emerged from the forest, hands full with fruits some of them Kira failed to recognize – were the blue ones really fruits? – and daggers hung at their sides. Fluttering above them was a spirit of a bird, its pale yellow wings emanating a soft light, almost divine with brushes of green shade on its back and chest. Kira felt his smile widening when the spirit made a dive and arrived on his shoulder, its feathers caressing the side of his cheek. Torii always gave him a sense of peace, much alike the one who gave it to him.

Athrun. The name felt like music on his tongue; melodious, velvety, and soothing. Athrun, always the strong one despite his similarly small build, the brave one – his protector, his only friend, his life. Kira could remember only little of his childhood which had not resolved around the navy-haired boy and when Hibiki-san had come to take him away, Athrun had been the reason why he had spilled so much tears.

_But you won't be alone,_ Athrun had whispered through suppressed tears and it made Kira feel ashamed of his own sobs, _because I'm always with you._ Then Torii had appeared on his hand and when the spirit had spread its wings, crossing what little gap between them, he had known that his best friend would keep his words. Like always.

"Is this really edible?" he heard Milli inquiring, putting an end to his train of thoughts. Ssigh and Kuzzey had put their load onto an old linen cloth he distinguished as one of the few items in his small journey bag. Milli was squatting next to the cloth, hand fingering a black-colored fruit with noticeable doubt.

"I just took everything I came across," Kuzzey replied brusquely, his face appearing paler than usual. "Just let Tolle take a look at them."

Kira was half-listening to Tolle identifying the fruits – 'these are poisonous, this one has the side effect to fuddle your mind, these are not ripe enough' – as his eyes caught the sweats pouring down a side of Kuzzey's face.

"Are you alright?" Kira asked him apprehensively.

"Just tired," the black-haired boy sighed. "There was a group of scary-looking flying insects chasing us back there in the forest."

"They are called bees, Kuz," Ssigh informed him, almost seeming amused. Then his gaze fell onto Kira's side and he frowned, nodding forward, "What's that on your right arm, Kira?"

Following his blond friend's gaze, Kira noted a slender armlet circling the upper side of his arm, prominent against the old fabric of his clothing. Astonished, he stared at the unfamiliar object – he had never remembered seeing it before – as his other hand reached up, fingering the glossy ring of gold, following its curves and arches until they led him to a single amethyst stone, crowned amidst a relief of swords and blades. When he finally regained his voice back, a short question was what it allowed.

"Where does this come from?"

"You don't know how you got it?" Milli sounded astonished and for some reasons, also ecstatic.

Kira gave her a blank look and watched as she take a closer look at the armlet, a wide grin beginning to invade the remaining space on her face. "I take it you also don't know what the white light you emitted last night was about," she said.

"I emitted?" Kira echoed, an expression of total lost on his countenance.

His friend waved her hand in dismissal. "You were having a cold when Master told me about this. It was sometimes three years ago, I guess. We were nursing you and I insisted to stay awake until you felt better, so he narrated me a story to keep my eyes open." She heaved a deep breath, as if about to disclose her innermost secret before continuing, "Master said that long time ago people were much stronger than we are now, both physically and in magic. A lot of them were able to gain a blessing that allowed them to enhance their ability."

"There were two types of enhancement," she explained. "Powerful warriors could obtain an enhancement called _Phidias_, which would be able to raise physical aspects like strength or defense for a period of time. Someone who had a Phidias was titled 'Knight'. As for powerful wizards, there was this thing called _Rerum_. It could raise the power of normal spells or sometimes, enabled its wearer to cast an uncommon spell, depending to each Rerum. These people were referred as 'Mage'."

"Hey, I know that story!" Tolle suddenly exclaimed. "Somewhere when we were kids... yes! That legend was popular among the townsfolk that time! I remembered being trapped in a cupboard listening to old maids blabbering about it for hours!"

"Right, I know I've heard about it somewhere," Ssigh voiced his agreement, a finger thoughtfully brushing his chin. "Remember, Kuzzey? I think it was ten or eleven years ago. A Knight from Panama was leading a company of soldiers to capture a heretic who went into hiding somewhere around here and the town went into a buzz because we had never seen a Knight before.

Next to him, Kuzzey frowned, looking at Milli. "That 'Knight' looked just as ordinary as everyone was. Perhaps it was only a legend, like Tolle said."

"So I thought that time," the brown-haired girl nodded, eyes gleaming in enthusiasm as her gaze flickered back to Kira's new armlet, "but then Master told me that he felt Kira might have that kind of blessing."

The named boy stared at her. "He did?"

"Stop acting like that, Kira," Milli admonished, her forehead drawing into a frown. "If there is someone among the people I know who deserves the blessing, it is you and you know it. Your abilities surpass all of ours combined."

"Sorry," he apologized with a grin. "Just a little overwhelmed, I guess, with that much information coming at me at once. And what you said at the end is not true."

Before Milli could contradict the last statement, Ssigh quickly led the conversation somewhere else. "So, are you saying that this armlet Kira has here is some kind of... what are they again?"

"Phidias and Rerum," Milli automatically filled in. "But judging from the way you vanished last night, Kira, I assume it was your agility it affected. Which means this armlet must be a Phidias."

"Unbelievable," Tolle muttered in awe, then looked up at Kira with a wide grin. "So how do you feel, Sir Knight?"

"If my answer is 'awesome', I know you will hit me," Kira shot back wryly, his fingers once again caressing the delicate carving that embellished his armlet. "Seriously, Tolle, I don't feel any different than usual even if this blessing supposes to enhance my strength or something. I don't even know why it comes to me."

"It's rather hard to believe, I know," Milli admitted with a sigh. "I've never seen anyone with these blessings myself, nor do I know why the number of these blessed people has decreased so drastically. However, Kira, if Master said so, I inclined to believe it too."

A pair of violet eyes gave her a _look_ as the boy mumbled bitterly, "He has never told us he was a royal alchemist."

"Certainly he has his own reasons," Milli responded defensively, an odd expression on her face.

When Kira did not reply and set his attention on Torii instead, she thought she understood the flash of disappointment that even so faintly passed across his face. Although they were not actually a father-and-son related by blood, unlike her, Kira had never had someone to compare with. Where to put the limit, he had no experience of but what his heart told him. All of a sudden she felt a pang of guilt – unexplainable, but it was there, silently leaving a deep trace – that she could not feel what he actually felt.

"From what you said," Ssigh's voice pulled her out of her reverie and she quickly leveled her gaze with him, "I make a conclusion that not everybody has this blessing. Is that right?"

"If what you mean is whether it is possible for you to have the blessing too or not, I can only say that I don't know," she replied in amusement, earning herself a bashful grin from the boy. Silently, she passed a sidelong look at Kira who was conversing quietly with Torii, and resumed with lower tone, "One can only attain a blessing, for example a Phidias, if he has remarkable physical qualities. Likewise, if you have achieved a certain level in magic, Rerum may be attainable. As for Kira, you do know what he is capable of, don't you? It's rather unsurprising for me that he manages to attain a Phidias."

"But you know what, Milli," Tolle suddenly said, his face bright with enthusiasm, "it may be cool if in fact all of us can earn the blessing too. Who knows, right? Maybe you can be a Mage! Your water magic if pretty good, I think."

"I'm not sure about that," Milli said thoughtfully. "Nowadays, most of those who can have the blessings are from the nobility. On the other hand, perhaps it is a good thing that only a few can. Master said, a long time ago chaos ran amok because of these people. Usually, someone earned a blessing if he was trapped in a dire situation or too consumed by a certain strong emotion, and after the threat had passed, not many could regain their old self back."

From the corner of her eyes, she noted that Kira went stiff once she had finished her explanation. However, her attention was caught by Kuzzey who had been sitting all the way wordlessly beside Ssigh with – she had just noticed – a sickeningly pale face. The black-haired boy swayed dangerously backward once and fell with a loud thud.

"Kuzzey!"

Quickly she rushed to the black-haired boy as Ssigh tried to shake him awake, the others hovering around them. Placing her palm on his forehead, she muttered quietly, "He has a fever."

"The bees," Kira figured out, a worried look on his face. "He must have been stung earlier. Can you remove the poison, Milli?"

"I'll try," she answered determinedly and used her magic at once, inwardly reminding herself that his unconscious friend was an earth. A soft bluish glow appeared at the base of her palm, which she was positioning on Kuzzey's neck to begin the curing. At times like this, she was grateful that her element was water, which enabled her to perform healing magic, especially since none of the boys had the particular ability.

For a while, no one uttered anything, all eyes set on Milli's hand. When she eventually removed her hand and looked up, there were anxious lines still on her brow.

"I have removed the poison, but his fever isn't diminishing. We have to find a way to lower his temperature. It's too high to my liking," she bluntly said.

"Cooling it down by water?" Ssigh suggested uncertainly.

"I don't think it's enough," Kira told him, "but it probably can help. By the way, Tolle," he turned to the other boy who had yet to say a word, "we should search for featherfoil. I believe you know that herb?"

A nod from the lighter-brown-haired boy set the two in motion and they began to search for the aforementioned herb at two different directions. The last thing that Kira heard as his footsteps gradually made more distances to their campsite was the voice of Milli giving instruction for Ssigh to fetch more water from the river.

Featherfoil, as he had learned from his master, was a kind of herb frequently used to treat fevers and not too hard to find in general. Most usually, the kind would grow at cool and shady places, such as under the trees. There should be an abundant amount of them in the forest, Kira convinced himself. His eyes scanned the area thoroughly as his feet brought him from one area to another. It was not long until he caught sight of a series of low bushes decorated with sporadic yellow-white flowers clustering imperceptibly at the feet of a tree.

Wasting no time, Kira dashed all the way there and pulled out a small dagger. He was about to reach for the plant when something hit his left hand, leaving a red mark on the skin. Registering that it was a small rock, he quickly cast a wary glance around and almost as immediately, noticed someone standing on the branch of a tree not far from where he stood.

"You don't want to touch it," the stranger said clearly. The voice sounded rough and low, but unquestionably belonged to a girl. Kira stared, wide eyed, dagger clutched tightly on his hand, as she leapt down and began to approach him easily yet carefully.

Now that she was closer, Kira could easily distinguish the fine female lines of her slender body and the stern feature of her visage. Wrapping her body was the mundane green-brown clothing he often saw worn by rangers he had come across with, only not as worn-out. Belted around her waist were a sword, two daggers, and a pouch, while a wooden bow could be seen spying from her back ominously. Clearly she was not an ordinary village girl, but for one reason or another, he could not classify her as a mere ranger either.

"Relax," she smiled slightly, but it was cautious, "I'm not going to harm you as long as you don't intend to harm me."

For a moment, Kira considered the announcement, his awareness of the hilt of his dagger digging into his flesh alerting him. Eventually he lowered the sharp object and murmured slowly, "That depends, doesn't it?"

"That depends," the stranger agreed and from her coiled fist fell another small stone. She studied him for a while, vigilance never leaving her golden eyes, and then asked with a more relaxed tone, "What are you doing here in this side forest?"

'_What you were interrupting,'_ Kira heard his conscience answering inwardly, but promptly put the rude reply aside. Perhaps the Phidias was affecting his mentality more than he had originally assumed. Dismissing the not-so-amusing thought, he concentrated in elaborating his condition with a note to keep their status unrevealed – in case the Alliance Guards had bothered to make them fugitives.

"One of my friends has a fever," he gave her the scarcest details and glanced to the bushes next to his feet. "I'm looking for a sort of herb called featherfoil to treat the fever. I believe this is the one."

"That is not a featherfoil," she answered with a lighter tone. "It looks like one but if you touch it, the highest possibility of what will happen is that its many thorns will wound you and the poison smeared on its stem and leaves will gain a convenient access to get into your blood. To cure you then will be far from easy, trust me."

Kira eyed her dubiously. "It looks just like–"

"I know," she cut in, impatience palpably displayed on her countenance now, "but it isn't. Its name is Toxicodendron. Still, you can always try and see for yourself if you want."

They fell silent for a moment as Kira stared at the plant she claimed as poisonous, wondering if he was indeed mistaken. After a while he shrugged, "Oh, well, I should search for the real featherfoil then."

"I have some," she informed him, her hand touching the pouch on her waist. "I can give it to you if you want. Not as fresh as the newly gathered though."

When what he did was only to stare pointedly at her, she grinned. "Just don't want you to get it wrong again after I make my effort to save you once, you know."

Then, very slowly, he nodded and she started to rummage her small bag. There was clinking of metal coming from the pouch, which made him steady his dagger again as she flashed him an offended look. Not a moment later, she handed him the herb and said, "Good luck to your friend. And if you ever need featherfoil again, make sure the plant you're about to pluck doesn't have thorns, okay?"

"Thanks," he mumbled and watched the girl going back to where she came from, blond hair swinging wildly in the air to follow her agile movement. Then, remembering the herb in his hand, he turned around to follow his own trace back to the campsite. When he arrived, a small fire had been lit and Kuzzey was lying closely by. Milli and Ssigh looked up and sighed in relief when he waved his full hand at them.

Following his gaze to the fire, Milli explained quickly, "He started to shiver not long after you left."

"We have to force him to swallow this," Kira passed her the herb. She nodded and pulled out her small knife.

Milli was cutting the herb into tiniest pieces possible when Tolled arrived with hasty paces, a distressed look on his face. He squinted next to his friends, breathing erratic, and said with a low voice, "I can't find the herb but there is something much more urgent."

"Don't worry, Kira got it," Ssigh told him, nodding at their female friend who now was mixing the sliced herb into a cup of water. "What is the urgent news?"

"I saw a company of Alliance Guards at the west border of the forest," he spoke quickly. "Luckily they were too busy to notice me. There was a small house there – just an ordinary one like those in Heliopolis – and they were surrounding it. Then a woman came out from the house and the guards started to shout something. I wasn't so close as to be able to hear what they said but it seemed that they were threatening her. Then – I don't know why – her eyes were suddenly on me and I instantly ran. No need to worry though, I've made sure they aren't following me."

Tolle fell silent for a moment, evaluating his friends's reaction as Milli joined them. Kira and Ssigh were sharing an uncertain look when he decided to break the silence. "Do you want to know what I think?"

Ssigh glanced sharply at him. "Don't play hero, Tolle. We are not in a favorable circumstance ourselves now."

"There must be something we can do," the smaller boy insisted. "Oh, come on! We cannot turn a blind eye to a helpless woman who is in trouble because of the guards! They do whatever they like nowadays!"

"How many are they?" Kira suddenly asked.

"Ten or so, I guess," Tolle answered right as Ssigh admonished, "Kira!"

The boy sighed heavily. "I didn't say we should jump in right away. Let us just see what is actually happening there. If there is something we can do to help her, why not?" His eyes gleamed in bitter amusement. "We are fugitives anyway."

"Be careful," Milli's quiet voice chimed all of sudden and they noticed that her gaze was steadfastly pinned at Kira's right arm. "You do not know yet what _it _can do to you. If you can, don't use it."

Kira nodded, assuring her. "Don't worry. I don't even know how to – like you said – use it. It was pretty much acting by itself last night."

"I ought to say that this is highly dangerous, obviously unbeneficial, indisputably reckless, and fantastically possible to end us up in an underground jail somewhere charged for heresy," across him, Ssigh solemnly declared and then got up on his feet, his long sword set proudly on his shoulder. "So, what are we waiting for?"

"I know I love you all," Tolle grinned at his friends, also standing up. "Follow me. It's not too far from here, somewhere close to the west bank and we can hide easily enough among the trees."

After organizing his own sort of weaponries, Kira called for Torii and placed it onto Milli's shoulder. "Let us know as soon as possible if anything bad is happening here," he spoke quickly as Torii chirped in somewhat a solemn manner, obviously an acknowledgment. "I've set up a guarding spell around here but send Torii for me if anything goes wrong."

As soon as he received a nod from the girl, he immediately followed his friends' tracks, grass and soil passing fast beneath his agile feet. The forest was quiet, he instantly noted the change from earlier, which had never been a good sign. It was eerie despite the daylight, and the wind that was hurling past his ears did not help him to establish a better judgment to his surrounding. Not a minute later, at a short distance ahead of him, he sighted Tolle and Ssigh waiting for him to catch up, their gazes noticeably locked elsewhere.

"We're too late," was what Tolle murmured in distress once Kira arrived next to him

It was not a pleasant picture that greeted his eyes as Kira turned to look at the scene. A few of the Alliance Guards were lying immobile on the ground – either unconscious or lifeless – with no little blood tainting the earth and spoiling the air with their nauseating scent. There were four who were still on their feet, three of them holding a spear each, which was aimed cagily to a body of a woman while the last one was toying his sword maliciously in front of an unconscious dark-skinned man. They had obviously been putting up quite a fight, but a two-against-ten battle was anything but fair.

The guards were talking quietly among themselves, one of them – probably the captain – declaring that their hostages were not to be killed. The instruction was ended by a short bark of mocking laugh as he cut a few strands of the woman's thick brown hair with the tip of his lance. Nothing was mentioned about injuring them though, the captain added and Kira could feel his blood seething in his veins. They had to act, he knew it, but apprehension took hold of his feet as various plans speeded across his mind in but a hazy blur.

All of a sudden, he felt his arm seized by Tolle in a tight grip. Kira immediately forgot to wince when he saw that the guard with a sword was in a stance to hack down at the dark-skinned man, most likely wanting to take a revenge for his comrades by cutting one or two limbs. Before he could react, Tolle had pulled an arrow from his quiver and placed it on his bow, ready to shoot.

That moment, much to everyone's surprise, a mass of sharp jagged ices burst through from the earth, forcing the guard with sword to jump back with a number of new bleeding wounds. Then suddenly, the presumably unconscious woman took a leap back to her bloodied feet and dashed to her comrade's side, picking up an abandoned sword in process. Fast to recover from their initial shock, the guards now refocused to corner her once again.

It was the time to act. Kira tapped Tolle's shoulder lightly as he ran to the open field with his own sword unsheathed, followed by Ssigh. The nearest guard sensed their coming and turned around, right as Kira rolled forward and an arrow whizzed past him. A sharp cry from the guard told him that Tolle – as usual – had hit the target and he swiftly swept the guard's feet with a fluid kick. One down. Ssigh, he had the chance to notice, was also faring well in his fight with another guard. Wasting no time, he moved to the second guard with spear.

This one had no excellent technique and Kira was about to plummet him when a heavy blow of wind struck him hard, obliging him to put some distances to his falling target. From the corner of his eyes, he noted that it was the guard with sword using magic on him and immediately dropped down to one of his knees, pressing his unequipped hand to the ground. A wall made of solid soil appeared from the ground a moment later, effectively sheltering him from the wind.

With the wind now blocked, Kira agilely climbed the wall and lunged forward once he had reached the top, disarming the second guard. A hit with the hilt of his sword to the back of the guard's neck put him unconscious at once. He still could dodge another attack of wind magic on the last moment and was starting to make a dash to his attacker when a shoot from Tolle hit the guard's right foot and hence, providing him with an easier chance to take the man down.

All down. Due to either exhaustion or sheer relief, Kira sank to his feet.

"Kira! Are you okay?" Ssigh rushed to his side, obviously coming up victorious in his own fight. From behind the trees, Tolle came running to them with a dagger ready on his hand.

"Yes, but I think she needs help," Kira nodded at the woman who was watching them bewilderedly but cautiously, her sword ready at her side.

Noting the crimson stain on her leggings, Ssigh moved closer but she only raised her sword higher at his approach. When she opened her mouth, her voice still came out stable and firm. "Who are you, boys?"

Ssigh offered her an uncertain smile. "Before that, what if we take a look at your wound first? It looks pretty ugly."

"But much before that," Tolle cut in, still eyeing the unconscious guards suspiciously, "do you have any rope we can use, Ma'am? It may be better to make sure that they won't be able to make a surprise attack like you did."

"Yes, of course," she replied quickly and then nodded to the left side of the house. "We keep ropes at the tool shed there, if you can go and get them for me." Without answering, Tolle rushed to find the ropes.

Kira stood up and approached the still unconscious man, squatting carefully next to him. Black curly hair was messily covering most of the man's face, leaving only an unshaved chin and a little of tanned skin to see. The boy took a glance at the brown-haired woman, noting the vigilant look on her face, and asked, "Is he your companion?"

Her chocolate eyes flashed a keen look. "That depends on why you are here."

Kira was regarding her calmly, not answering, when Ssigh spoke up with a somber tone, "The wound I don't think I can handle. It's pretty deep." He looked at Kira and got on his feet. "I'll go fetch Milli and Kuzzey. She may be able to do something about this."

After Ssigh had left, Kira returned his attention to the man in front of him, searching for any injury which had brought him to the state he was now. Apart from numerous shallow cuts and several bruises, there was a nasty wound at the back of his head, swollen and covered with dried blood. A mix of several herbs should be able to heal it just fine, Kira thought to himself, even though of course any effect inflicted to the mind was beyond any cure but time.

"Hey, I find the ropes!" Tolle appeared from the shed and tossed several of the mentioned items to his remaining friend. "You get the guards over there, Kira. I'll handle these ones."

Tentatively, Kira did as told, binding the hands as well as feet of the – fortunately – still unconscious guards. For safety measure, he also removed every kind of weapon he could find and gathered them into a pile near the house. Every so often his eyes would spare a glance at his friend at the other side of the small field, wary of any unexpected strike.

For the first time he had the chance to properly evaluate his surrounding. The house was of medium size, made of bricks and painted bright white. A small poor-kept garden decorated the path that led to the house, weeds mingling everywhere with full-blooming flowers. It looked every bit a residence of normal villagers who were probably too reluctant to dwell in the village with others. As for why the inhabitants were apparently far from ordinary – not to mention the level of magic the brown-haired woman had displayed just then was nothing ordinary – and the Alliance Guard was going after them, Kira had absolutely no idea.

"What should we do with them?" Tolle crouched next to him as he tied a tight knot for the last soldier. Need much more than brute strength to unfasten it, he thought with satisfaction.

"I'm not sure," Kira sent a doubtful gaze to the silent woman they had aided. "Maybe we can ask her first. She doesn't seem to be an ordinary woman and the man there surely isn't her relative or her husband. You have never seen them before, have you?"

Tolle shook his head and sighed half-heartedly, "Why do we always get ourselves into serious troubles?"

"Then be responsible for it, Tolle. This is your brilliant idea," Kira stuck his tongue out.

"That's my talent," the other boy winked as they walked across the lawn, back to where the injured woman was. She had torn half of her legging and now visible on her fairly pale skin was a deep gash which ran from the base of her knee to her ankle. Tolle winced at the sight and quickly said, "I'll get some water from the well back there. It sure needs to be cleaned."

Kira nodded absentmindedly and sat next to the woman. "It was made by a spear?" he inquired quietly.

"Yes," she acknowledged, a look of despair on her face. "If only I have the power to use my magic, I should be able to heal this right now. And him," she turned to look at her companion.

"Right, water is your element," Kira remarked thoughtfully. "The ice attack you used back then was great. It was utterly unexpected."

"Thank you," she replied and fell silent afterward. For a while, she only observed the young man's face across her, vigilance never leaving her eyes, but when she eventually spoke, her tone was gentler than he thought. "May I know what are you boys doing here?"

There was an uncomfortable look residing on Kira's face for a moment before he gave an answer. "We were just passing by when we heard sounds of fighting. Then we took a look out of curiosity and here it ended like this."

An amused smile broke on her lips at the short explanation as the woman said with an even more amused tone, "I really want to say that I do not believe it but I owe you my life. In this situation, I totally have no right to complain, do I?" She chuckled a little. "You have great skills, in magic too. That alone makes it hard to believe that you are merely a common villager," her gaze shifted to his left arm, "and I cannot recall that there has ever been a common villager who has a Phidias."

Kira did not answer. He only maintained a pensive gaze at her and very slowly, a wistful smile appeared on his lips. He still did not answer. There was no need for her to know what he had had to give away in exchange of his Phidias.

The sound of footsteps approaching made him look up, away from her questioning eyes. He found himself looking at Miriallia running toward him while Ssigh trudging behind her with Kuzzey on his back. The black-haired boy did not seem to be awake yet. Hovering above them all was Torii, its wings reflecting the sunlight as it voiced a small 'torii!' at the sight of him. Kira could not help but smile as the spirit rested from the hurried flight on his shoulder, offering his cheek an affectionate peck.

"How is Kuzzey?" he asked once Milli arrived in front of him, busily adjusting her fast breathing.

"The featherfoil works wonderfully," the brown-haired girl shot him a quick smile, which immediately changed into a concerned expression. "Are you hurt, Kira?"

"I'm fine, but maybe you can take a look of these wounded ones here," Kira motioned at the woman and her friend.

At once Milli noticed the hideous wound his friend was pointing at. The injured woman herself was giving her an unsure look, probably wondering why on earth there was a girl among the group of boys. Flashing a reassuring smile, Milli kneeled next to her and was about to speak when a loud voice distracted her. "Milli!"

Tolle emerged from the house, carrying a full pail of water easily with one hand and a washcloth he apparently had found in the house with the other. "Good to see that you're okay!"

"We parted just a little while ago," the girl pointed out, rolling her eyes. "But you guys sure were able to make quite a mess during that 'little while' here."

"But everything turns out just fine, thanks to us," Tolle said with a wide grin and offered the pail to Milli, who immediately took it. She turned to the woman, smiling benignly.

"If you permit, Ma'am – no, I mean..."

The woman quickly responded, "The name is Mira Rousia. I am sorry for not introducing myself first," she returned the smile apologetically.

"What is a person like you doing here anyway?" Ssigh asked as he lowered Kuzzey to the ground next to them, helped by Kira. Sharp vigilance flashed in his eyes when he declared with a lower tone, "One thing for sure, do not expect us to believe that you are just one of the villagers of Heliopolis, particularly with that advanced level of magic."

"I can say the same of your friend here," the woman nodded to Kira with a tight smile. When none of the boys made a sign any of them would reply, she continued carefully, "I cannot express my thanks enough to all of you for helping us, but if you refuse to believe the simplest explanation, I'm afraid I cannot say more than that."

There was a short bark of laugh coming from Tolle. His eyes twinkled as he said, "You speak as if the world will end if we know who you are."

"Perhaps to us, it will," the woman answered quietly.

"Well, don't let us know then," the boy countered with an easy grin. "It's as simple as that. But in return, allow us to reveal nothing more than our names to you."

"As simple as that, you say," a smile began to bloom on her face, easing the grave lines it had retained a moment ago. There was something close to wonder in her eyes as she regarded the group of youngsters, all now smiling due to their friend's neat handling of the matter. Her smile grew into a small laugh and she nodded, "Very well. I take it's a deal then."

"Perfect," Tolle grinned back at her.

"He is always like that," Millie said almost apologetically to the older woman. Then, suddenly, she frowned and the bluish glow appearing from her palm vanished. Sighing a heavy breath, Millie wiped her forehead and looked up, saying, "I'm sorry, but this is the best I can do. I think you will need two more days to let it completely heal."

At the suggestion, Rousia's face darkened and she spoke with a solemn voice, "I'm afraid we must leave this place as soon as possible," but then she smiled a little, "still I thank you for your help. I am not able to do much in my own with this condition."

"You have somewhere to go?" Kira inquired.

She smiled ruefully at his question. "You can say that. But of course I cannot afford to stay here any longer with this incident happening," she glanced around at her chaotic surrounding.

"We may be able to help," Tolle suddenly piped up.

"Which means?" Ssigh threw a wary glance at his friend.

The other boy laughed. "Nothing to worry, Ssigh, my little idea is utterly harmless. You know that I know this forest like my own backyard, don't you? Now, there is a small cave at the other side of the river, quite a distance from here but still reachable if we set out at once. I was about to mention it to you earlier but since many things happened, I totally forgot about it."

"Are you sure it's really safe?" Millie asked apprehensively.

"Quite, if we cover our tracks well," Tolle replied in brimming confidence. "No Alliance Guard will be able to find it unless they manage to turn every rock and stone."

During the exchange, Rousia stared at each of the youngsters, reluctance battling hopefulness visible in her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she voiced her disagreement, "I do appreciate the effort. However, it may be best for you not to get involved with us."

Kira settled her with an odd look and stated, "Our Master said that heartless people turn their backs on those who need aid the most, but only those who are not only heartless but also dishonorable can walk away from people they have helped halfway."

"Right," Ssigh agreed, "and nothing can make us show less gratitude to him than disobeying the small proverbs of his life."

"Is there anything I can say or do that may be able to change your mind?"

"More likely than not, no," Tolle replied, grinning victoriously, and then looked around at his friends. "Let's go now!"

**- To be continued -**

* * *

**Notes:** The problem with making a story with too many characters is how to organize the conversation. Oh, I have done what I can anyway... Hope you enjoy it, folks. About the bees, let's just assume that they are different from our bees. I don't know if actual bees can cause any illness except anaphylactic shock.

And to fulfill a request from **purple1**, from now on I will include the sneak-peek of the next chapter.

_Chapter 3: Athrun makes his first entrance and a look into the Kingdom_ _of ZAFT!_

Thanks for reading and please review!

---

**Tolle Koenig**

Age: 17

Rank: None

Element: Earth

Origin: Heliopolis

Statistics:

-- _Strength_: 102 (excellent)

-- _Defense_: 93 (good)

-- _Magic_: 72 (average)

-- _Magic Defense_: 75 (average)

-- _Agility_: 119 (excellent)

-- _Accuracy_: 114 (excellent)

-- _Stamina_: 104 (excellent)

Specialty: Scouting


	3. Chapter 3

See **DISCLAIMERS** and **WARNINGS **in the first chapter. 

Note: Since **Tetsuni** has asked, I will explain about magic in this story. The explanation can be found at the end of this chapter.

* * *

**Fields of Feuds**

**Author: Jusrecht**

**Chapter Three**

**

* * *

**

The day was bright, the sun was radiant, the leaves were green, the flowers were in full-bloom, and yet, guards were set at their guarding posts, ever apt and vigilant in their duty, unbothered by the merry chirps of sparrows and finches or the beauty of nature. It was something to be proud of – even if a little bitter it was – to stand on guard in front of the entrance of the Royal Castle, which was naturally the residence of the most important figure of ZAFT. Those with better, nobler background might not end up there, guarding the castle's entrance, but the lesser ones most likely would not be able to complain much.

All in all, there was still something they could do for their beloved kingdom, was probably the silent thought of the castle guards.

It was a young man – so young that his title and role might seem outrageous on others with equivalent age, but every one in the kingdom had learned to believe the stories told about this young man – who walked out of the castle that fine afternoon. His face, one that would make any mother proud with its chiseled fineness, and his impeccable manner had been widely renowned around the castle ground and often were brought up amidst streams of giggling and chattering of the castle maids with high reference. One of the Four Commanders of the Royal Army, also the foster son of the Prime Minister. And then, there were his eminent great deeds, which no one wasted any time to doubt upon, to go alongside his other excellences.

The guards promptly made a salute at his presence and the young man nodded, offering them a quick smile with small weary lines at the edge of his lips. Another trait which endeared this young man to his people was his eccentricity to lack the snobbishness of nobles. While royalties and nobles were to be revered, one could not help but to favor those with kinder, gentler heart. That and his other qualities often provoked a discussion to compare him with their royal prince.

However, the young man himself had never bothered his mind with such conception. Athrun Zala knew – always – where to put the line. He never wished to go against the King who owned the loyalty of the man he respected the most.

As he halted in the middle of his steps on the smooth rock-strewn path, his deep emerald eyes took in the vivid splendor of his surrounding. Springs had never been less beautiful at PLANT, as if the Goddess of Spring herself had decided to dwell there in the heart of the city, and the castle gardeners never put less than their best effort to keep the castle ground as magnificent as it had always been. A quiet sigh escaped his lips. It helped to lessen his uneasiness a bit, which always surfaced every time he found himself kneeling before the King.

In fact, as a soldier who had sworn allegiance to his king, he still was not sure where his loyalty truly lay. Most of ZAFT soldiers probably suffered a similar case, but the pride they had gained from winning so many wars and battles could as well patch the flaw. His Majesty might not be the worst of rulers, but certainly one could do with less warfare in one's life.

And of course, Athrun turned around, watching the intense glint of sunlight on the glossily polished castle wall, there was something quite wrong with castles built of costly limestone, its every space carved with excessive ornamentation. He strongly believed that castles were the defender of the city, should be made of sturdy grey stones which prices did not exceed a citizen's meal a block, and armed with catapults, not with plush seating or shiny but empty armors. This place was not a castle; it was a palace, as he had mentioned to his foster father once and the Prime Minister only laughed quietly, saying that ever since the King had lost his first queen and child, such luxuries had in fact lessened although there was an alarming increase of the cost for wines and weaponries. The castle and its embellishment, he had said, had only been the part of the past when laughter could still be easily heard coming from the King.

Losing a wife and a child could change someone drastically, he had learned that day and now, as he stared at the castle, still well kept although seeming cold and cheerless, the navy-haired young noble reflected that he might act the same if he were to lose his foster father and sister.

Turning away from the dismal thought, Athrun resumed his walk. He should not worry. At least, his foster father was the Prime Minister and also loved to the highest degree by the people. However, his temple was pulled into a frown, he knew that lately arguments had started to rise between the King and his second-in-command, mainly about the prolonged war with OMNI Alliance. His foster father had never agreed of war, but when a ruler of such vast powerful kingdom lost his family to a deceitful conspiracy, little could one do to stop war from brewing.

Who was he to put the blame on the King? Athrun almost laughed bitterly. He had been obeying the man for years, leading many battles to fulfill his orders, and bringing home victories under his banner. Not to disgrace the Clyne family name was the most he could do to repay his foster father.

His thought was put to an end when he noticed two other young men entering the gate of the castle. They also immediately recognized him and the darker of the two smiled.

"I've heard that you have returned from Gibraltar," he greeted with a grin, voice as brash as usual. "Another victory, eh, Athrun?"

"Not as well as you did in Banadia," Athrun replied politely, and then bowed slightly to the third person of their group. "My congratulation for your triumph, Your Highness."

Anger flashed in the eyes of the silver-haired prince. Even though Athrun had his soldier instinct to alert him, he hardly withdrew when Yzak Jule grabbed him by the collar and hissed threateningly, "Call me that again and I promise you'll regret it."

"My apology," the youngest commander inclined his head, trying to suppress a wince. The wound on his chest had not completely healed yet and his journey home on a horse had only worsened it somewhat. Obviously it was his own fault, but he had been away for months, in a battlefield with the smell of smokes and dead bodies all over the place. His yearn to go home was no longer containable.

Yzak only snorted disdainfully but released him nonetheless. Carefully avoiding making an eye contact with the prince, Athrun excused himself and nodded to Dearka before disappearing behind the castle gate. A pair of angry cerulean eyes followed his movement, and then Dearka, who had been watching his slighter companion for a while, commented gleefully, "You are going to kill someone with that look someday."

"I pray it will be him," Yzak retorted, his gaze spelling immense dislike.

Dearka almost laughed at his best friend's obstinacy to carry on the childish rivalry but refrained himself from doing so, and just pointed out with a serious note, "But you have to admit that his achievement is impressive. Defending Gibraltar from that huge of an attack from the Alliance isn't an easy task, even for the High General."

"I've never said that his ability was inadequate or something," the reply he received was quick and biting, but Yzak did not seem to realize the intensity of his own voice. "It's his personality I tremendously detest."

The taller commander shrugged nonchalantly. "At least Lord Klueze likes him. Most likely, if things remain as they do, our dearest friend will be appointed to be the next High General."

Yzak said nothing for a moment, but then turned around to stare accusingly at the grand palace in front of him. "Of all decent men in the Kingdom of ZAFT, why did my mother have to marry the King?"

"You don't want to be an heir of the throne?" Dearka asked incredulously.

"No, especially since everybody seem to cower before me just because I am now the prince," the silver-haired prince spat in distaste. "Lots of them think that I can become a commander merely because I wish to, not because I am able to. They think it is because I am _the prince_!" He whirled around, now facing his friend angrily. "And don't let me start with the bootlickers. They are growing in number everyday! Those things they are saying to me are in every sense disgusting! Someday I will kill one just to get rid of them!"

There was contrasting calmness on the other commander's face, one that was tinted by caution, as he told the fuming prince matter-of-factly, "And yet you haven't done a thing to get rid of me."

"Do you think I'm stupid, Dearka?" Yzak snapped at him, but one only had to look into his eyes and they would be able to see the hint of panic, also disappointment, palpable against the striking blue.

A small chuckle rose from Dearka and he answered sweetly, "Not in the least, my dear prince."

"That 'prince' title again!" Yzak threw his arm up in utter desperation, hiding his relief well under the enraged facade. "What is so flattering about being a prince?"

"Naturally, we commoners have to revere the man who will become our king," his friend kindly pointed out.

Probably it was the mocking tone of voice, or the second layer of inference lying beneath the words, but Dearka's statement annoyed the younger man. Roughly he reached out and took a handful of the other commander's clothing – the most he could do with their height issue – once again making threats, "I will have your head on a silver platter right now if you don't put a strict restraint to that mouth of yours, Dearka."

"And risking yourself the wrath of your stepfather?" Dearka's voice was laced with amusement, not the least bit perturbed by the threat. Leisurely, he brought forth his hand and let his finger to glide along the smooth silvery locks of the other's hair, continuing with a complacent manner, "You aren't that suicidal, my dear Yzak. You know well that I _am_ also an important commander of ZAFT."

A wry smirk settled on the prince's lips. "Then I will wait until I inherit the throne and have the authority to put upon you such penalty."

"Didn't you just proclaim that becoming a king was the last in your list?" Dearka voiced his disapproval, hand absentmindedly straightening his ruffled clothes. Immaculacy was the only state allowed in order to have an audience with the King.

The smirk went wider for a notch and as he turned around on his heels, Yzak gave his reply smugly, "Ah, but one should be able to make the utmost of his situation, no matter how unfavorable it is, shouldn't he?"

Dearka said nothing in return, merely watching at the flapping white cape his friend wore as the prince made his way imposingly to the castle. It was his little secret, he reflected with satisfaction, to see Yzak in that different light. An adroit commander, one who would jump into the hectic battlefield to save a single of his soldier; a proud noble, yet at the same time also a refined young man whose incorruptibility had the power to purchase indemnity for every hauteur; then, above all, a just character who heavily opposed fraudulence and everything in the gist of bribery. No one, he supposed, had reached this level of comprehension regarding Yzak, though he sometimes suspected Athrun might have with his uncanny insight. Then again, no one possibly knew that Dearka had his loyalty, so fervently attached to the future king, unshakeable to the farthest point.

No, he shook his head amusedly, more than the farthest point. It had reached the end where matters such life and death were but trifles.

On second thought, his conscience told him quietly, perhaps Yzak knew. And that was why the prince trusted him.

---

* * *

--- 

It was with the hastiest of paces that Athrun made his way to his waiting steed. The handsome stallion, with reins firmly held by a stable boy, neighed softly at his approach. Athrun thanked the boy and slipped into his empty hand a few coins he managed to find lying around in his pocket. Appeased by the bright smile he got in return, the young commander mounted his steed and gave her scarlet mane small soothing caresses.

A present from his foster father for his graduation from the military academy, the stallion, Scula, had grown up together with him and they were so close that it troubled him to leave her even in the capable hands of the castle stable. An unusual breed, was perhaps the general opinion concerning his steed and it was not in the matter of colour only. Her flaming almost crimson hair alone implied nothing common, but a horse that only bowed to a single person surely one did not meet just everyday. Athrun rarely felt proud, but of his loyal steed, his pride was immeasurable.

He had barely started his ride home when a familiar cheerful voice called his name and made him turn around to its source. On a black proud stallion, sat a young man of his age with pale olive hair neatly combed atop his head. His smile was amiable, as always, and carried with it an air of innocence possessed by the most precocious of boys. Athrun beamed in reply and greeted warmly the only young commander out of the other three he was comfortable with.

"Nicol! Long time no see, my friend!"

"Almost three months isn't it?" the newly arrived young man approached him, a look of remorse ruling his expression all the way. "I am most regretful to be away when you were assigned to Gibraltar, Athrun. I and my company should have been able to go with you had I come back quicker from Carpentaria. You surely cannot imagine how relieved I was when I heard of the victory." Then the appearance of relief was replaced with a hearty laugh. "But of course it would be the most intolerable to expect less from the finest of ZAFT commanders, wouldn't it?"

"You are exaggerating things," Athrun pointed out dryly. "By the way, does your being here mean that you are summoned by His Majesty?"

"As perceptible as always," Nicol shook his head in amusement. "Indeed I do, but I come earlier than expected, so let me accompany you on the way to your house."

"My pleasure."

The two commanders guided their horses to cross a bridge over a small watercourse, which led them down a sloping lane to the city gate. Athrun breathed in the salubrious noon air with a sense of contentment; how he had missed the meadow breeze and the fulfilling scent of grass. The wind at Gibraltar was too humid, always saturating his tongue with a salty taste. Then again, he might not be able to reminisce the scent of the sea without recalling the smell of blood and the picture of deep blue water tinted with red. It surely made an awful memory.

It was why, Athrun reflected, glancing around to his green surrounding and the city gate, tall and sturdy in front of him, this vast meadow side by side the bustling city was his home. He had lived here since he had been able to remember his name, and although the flames which had forsaken his orphanage in black smoldering ruins left a trace of repulsion to fire in the depth of his mind, he could never ask for a better recompense than the kindness of the family that had adopted him. PLANT, in spite of everything, had always been his place to return to.

Aware of his company who had gone quiet, Nicol cast a wary glance at him and asked, "Did His Majesty say anything disconcerting?"

"No, nothing of the sort," Athrun replied quickly. "I was wondering how things were with your piano now."

Nicol's warm chocolate eyes lit up at once at the mention of his favorite subject and his tone was fervent when he answered, "Most wonderful! I met this man, exceptionally adept with his violin, and he played to me the most magnificent songs I have ever heard. And if I watch him flying his fingers over the piano, always I wish that it were I performing the song."

"Your skill, Nicol, is nothing to be taken lightly," the other commander reminded him, although a little hesitant it was. "But I do not know much about the subject. If it suits you, I will be very glad to let Lacus compile a better judgment. She enjoys music very much."

"Of course," Nicol nodded eagerly before a shadow fell on his face and his voice turned somber. "Besides, I do think that you should do that to comfort her. She will be very upset once you arrive."

For a while, no one exchanged any word as they passed through the city gate and were welcomed by the hustle and bustle of a capital city at the fairest noon. Most of the pedestrians, having recognized them at once, cleared the way for the two nobles and earned a smile or occasional word of gratitude, but Nicol every so often would take a quick look at the impressive armlet at his friend's arm.

"You were exerting your Phidias again, weren't you?" at last he inquired. The look in his face clearly said that he was not amused.

"It was necessary," Athrun's reply was defensive.

"Doubtless, and it is the exact reason why we, commanders, usually are assigned in a pair," the olive-haired commander declared with a frown. "I know of the triumph, but how bad are the casualties actually?"

Athrun did not seem to want handing out any verbal answer for a moment as his jade eyes stared meditatively to the crowded street. Scula, almost as if she could sense the reluctance of her master, started an erratic pace and the echo of her hoofs now sounded above any other noise. The agitation seemed to shake Athrun out of his pensive state and as he stroked his horse's mane soothingly, he answered to Nicol with a faraway look in his eyes, "Gibraltar was in total disarray. The assault had been begun when I arrived – at least for a month – and the morale of the soldiers was not advantageous for us. I had no idea how the Alliance could build so many ships without any of our spies knowing. Then, I proposed the most frantic defensive tactic that had ever crossed my mind and yet it seemed to be the best at the moment. For some reasons, it did work."

But the price had been high. In a situation as dire as that, he had reasoned to himself, better to save many and sacrifice a little than the other way round. All the same, it still haunted him again and again, the moment when he had sent out a legion with the knowledge in his mind and heart that none of them would ever return. Victories always made him lament why he had not led the fallen ones.

_The triumph might have not been acquired if you did,_ a small sensible voice told him. _Or was it because you knew what without a doubt would happen and was afraid of it? _Another voice, more malicious, consequently accused and made Athrun wince. Searching for a distraction to lead him away from the guilt trip, he realized that his explanation had yet to finish and resumed with a tight voice, "The siege continued for almost three weeks since my arrival. Our provisions were thinning and none of the nearby village and town could spare their stock. I was praying for reinforcement and additional supplies from Junius 7 when the Alliance finally withdrew. Most likely, either their ammunition or supplies also ran out."

Athrun fell silent for a moment, a frown creasing his brow, and then said slowly, "They were, I ought to say, extremely persistent in winning the battle."

"They had not won once in these two years except in the most minor skirmishes, of course they would be determined to have this one," Nicol responded thoughtfully. "Too bad it was you they must confront there."

"I lost eleven of my men," there was a shrill note withheld in the voice of the navy-haired commander who was determined not to look on his friend's anxious face. "I cannot say for sure how many lives were sacrificed from the Fort of Gibraltar, but it must have reached one third of their entire force."

Nicol could not help but to sigh. While Athrun was not exactly like him, who had always kept tracks of the birthdates of those under his command, the other young man loved and was loved by everyone in his own company. He had never seen that kind of devotion for a leader as stanch as that Athrun had received from his soldiers and their loyalty had not been let down by their leader. Not just once or twice Nicol had been informed that his colleague was visiting his ill soldier when he had come to give the commander a small visit of himself.

To lose someone who had been as close as a brother – not merely comrade-in-arms – was devastating. The High General had carefully mentioned to his new commanders of their position and the risks and sacrifices they had to endure, but to be aloof had never been among the two friends's traits in the first place.

Another reason why commanders should be assigned in pairs, he realized, was to help each other going through this stage. Once he had broken down completely of losing more than fifty of his men to a slight miscalculation and it had been Athrun, with his sound way of thinking and calm wisdom, who had stayed by his side, unhesitatingly and unremittingly giving remonstrance to his every expression of self-reproach.

Friendship was a two-way road, and even though it might do little to console his friend, Nicol pronounced solemnly, "May their souls rest in peace."

"They must, with what they have given us," Athrun replied right away and then pondered over his own words. It must be victory he had been referring to, but the term felt hollow to him. Tired of being puzzled, he dismissed it as a side effect of being away from home for too long.

In the meantime, they had reached the west end of the city where the grand estate of the Clyne family was situated. In front of them now was a white ornamented gate of immense height, flanked by a less towering row of wall at each side that went in circle about the residence until it met the edge of the lake. A man in his early twenty hastily approached the gate at their arrival, recognizing the two at once. Athrun turned his horse to face Nicol and was about to offer him to come in when his friend said, "I must go back to the palace now. Give my best regards to your family and just inform me when the lady will have her free time to visit my home."

"Of course. Thank you for everything, Nicol," Athrun smiled and watched until his fellow commander disappeared among the sea of people. He then maneuvered his steed to enter the gate, replying to the warm greeting he received with equal geniality, and breathed out in relief once the gate was closed behind him. Finally, he was home again, in his sanctuary.

For once, today he wasted no time to entertain his aesthetic taste and appreciate the beauty around him, and immediately crossed the verdant lawn, following the established path without dismounting his horse. Once he had arrived and left Scula to the care of his stable attendant – with a sincere promise to give her a visit later – he ascended the stairs leading to the front door. Before he could push the door open, it had swung backward, revealing in front of him the butler of the house.

"Welcome back, Young Master," the middle-aged man addressed him formally with his usual impassive tone, seemingly unsurprised by his return. Then again, the butler had never displayed anything that resembled an expression and had his way to always know about all in the Clyne household.

"Thank you, Nevtodoi. Are my father and sister home already?" Athrun made his inquiry as he stepped into the house.

"Lord Clyne and the lady are in the backyard, Sir. They have just returned from the temple," the reply came without delay, as expected from the butler. "Is there anything I can bring you, Sir?"

"No, thank you. I expect my things to arrive tomorrow morning. Please see to it," said Athrun.

"Certainly, Sir."

"Have a good day, Nevtodoi." With that, he left the butler and went deeper into the grand house with swift long strides. It was a fine residence, quite spacious and comfortable, as expected from the dwelling of the prime minister of such powerful kingdom, yet at the same time not overly lavish. Lord Sighgell Clyne appreciated luxury but never dwelled in it, acutely mindful that others less fortunate could make a better use of his family's overabundant wealth. Such disposition he had encouraged for his children to inherit and now looking at how compassionate the son and daughter were, he could certainly feel at ease.

The house was quiet – it rarely was not – but its quietude spoke of a time of peace, of warmth and serenity, not of aloofness and insurmountable nobility the sumptuous royal palace had often whispered to him. Tall glass panes, always kept open at daylight except during rainfall and blizzard, allowed sparkling streams of sunlight to brighten the vast halls and tidy chambers. At less cheerful nooks could be seen white daisies placed in equally enriching vases, for now it was spring and flowers were plentiful.

As he stepped out to the bright open verandah, Athrun could now discern the large green turf of grass followed by clear sparkling water under the sun. The lake extended vastly that the opposite shore was but a thin brownish-green line to his eyes. Merry twittering of birds told him that here peace still reigned, remaining unsullied by the cries of war at the other side of the continent. And amidst the portrait of harmony were the two he was looking for.

Lord Clyne was a man with no imposing physical stature. His height was of the average, his posture was rather small, and even the colour of his hair was an ordinary yellow. Nevertheless, one could not simply disregard his presence since the Prime Minister emitted about him an air of imperceptible power, strengthened by his unerring acumen, which was appreciated by the King to the highest degree. He also was kindhearted and, unlike most of his predecessors, unusually modest despite his family being one of the oldest nobilities in PLANT. On account of these virtues, there were even sayings that spoke that even though the King was respected and obeyed by the people, it was Prime Minister Clyne they loved.

To his left stood a young lady who bore conspicuous dissimilarities to him. While his hair was of a dull yellow, hers had the most striking shade of pink, flowing unrestrained past her waist like the most delicate weaving made of silk. Her features were among the most beautiful Athrun had ever set his eyes on, and in the way she moved there was an air of imperturbable elegance, fashioned by the noblest lineage and finest upbringing. But it was in their eyes where he could finally spot a trace of their semblance. In them he fathomed the ability to overcome the viciousness of temper, a seemingly unending field of patience, and the greatest of all, profound wisdom.

The father and daughter were conversing quietly when he advanced toward them. It was Lacus who took notice of his coming first as a surprised expression flitted across her countenance, followed a second later by a joyful exclamation of his name. It made her father turn around and he too exclaimed, "Athrun! You gave no words that you were returning today!"

Immediately the lord strode forward and engulfed his foster son in his arms before he had the chance to make a salute. Once he had pulled back, the man made an observation over Athrun's appearance and stated disapprovingly, "You look exhausted and emaciated. Haven't I told you that taking a good care of his own health was one of a commander's most essential obligations?"

"You have, Father," Athrun answered meekly, "but our provisions were little and of course I could not indulge myself while my soldiers were enduring hunger."

"Let us not speak of war now that you have just returned," his father said firmly but his countenance softened. "I am grateful enough that you have managed to come back safely."

And then the lord stepped aside, allowing his foster son to now stand before his daughter. Athrun bowed, but then was confounded to notice that Lacus did not extend her hand for him to kiss as usual. Instead, the young lady put her arms around his neck and gave him one of the embraces affectionate siblings often shared, which promptly impelled a faint shade of blush to rise to his cheeks. Living for seven years with her did not quite ease his awkwardness of close contacts, but he was quick to recover and a moment later had returned the embrace courteously.

"I am glad to have you back home, Athrun," Lacus said warmly as they pulled apart, her hands remaining on his arms. "Are you injured?"

"A little, but nothing you should trouble yourself over," he smiled reassuringly, which unfortunately did little to render his statement more convincing if her change of expression was anything to consider.

"I am obliged to say that I find it hard to believe," the young lady announced but Athrun only widened his smile, accustomed to this kind of argument whenever he returned from a long, hard-fought battle. Strolling wordlessly beside the pair as they headed to a gazebo in the middle of the lawn, Lord Clyne had his eyes unimpeded to study the sight before him with the utmost liberty.

The children were his pride in many aspects. Lacus, as a daughter, was one that no father could claim as a disappointment and he could barely imagine a daughter more endearing than his own – polite, gentle yet firm, beautiful but never vain. She was also the priestess whom most if not all people in the kingdom loved and cherished, who had saved the lives of many with her unrivaled magic when a plague had broken out a year ago. However, there were times when he – with a strong combination of joy and wistfulness – did wish that she were not so much a splitting image of her mother, whose eminent beauty had once left his hands full to save from harm, and Lacus inheriting this feature practically assigned him to the same responsibility once more.

But, when then his gaze and thought diverted to Athrun, an enigmatic smile crept to his lips.

It had been a rash decision of him, founded on nothing but spontaneity and clearly without much consideration, how the young man had come into the long history of Clyne family. All of it had started with an orphanage conflagration, a major one which left not only the institution in ruins, but also a considerable number of neighboring houses. Two days after, he had visited the area, partially because he was the Prime Minister and mostly out of his genuine commiseration. The sight which had greeted his arrival had been still hideous although any revolting smell had lessened a great deal during the gap of two days, leaving in the air a silent bitter aftertaste. It had dismayed him to think about the future those parentless children had no chance to experience and the fact that it was the slightest of petty negligence – somebody had forgotten to put the fire in the common room out – that had robbed them of those bright prospects.

On the other hand, if it was not due to the fire, he might never meet his foster son.

Wasn't it in the kitchen, he questioned himself thoughtfully. The memory was dimming but Lord Clyne could still recall a ten years old boy, crouching at a corner between a cookstove and half-ruined wall, face streaked and blackened by charcoal and ashes. Leaving no less deep impression in his mind were the rigid defiance, the pitiful defensive stance the boy had desperately set at his emergence, and then the dull partly-burnt knife, its edge directed at him, gripped by one trembling hand while the other was clutching a small piece of stale bread close to his chest like it was the ultimate treasure of the world.

Probably it had been the heart-rending paradox the picture before him embodied, but the noble lord then had reached out, gently as not to frighten the little child, and after much soothing and coaxing, gathered him into his arms. The boy had remained stiff and silent even during their journey in the carriage, his eyes, curious but still distrustful, giving him a sidelong look at every turn. When they had arrived at the Clyne estate, as he had stepped down from the carriage and looked around with somewhat dulled interest, he then had collapsed, unconscious.

Such had been the mystery and the thoughts about the boy had stayed with the lord throughout the night. But at the next morning, after Nevtodoi had informed him that the young lad had been prepared to meet him properly, a youngster with virtually no resemblance to the timorous boy he had brought home just the day before had stepped into the dining room. Clean and neatly dressed, the boy had stood like a young aristocrat. He had been polite and handsome under the morning light, appropriately timid but with cords of confidence subtly interweaved in his conduct. Yet it was impossible, Lord Clyne had reminded himself, for a child to alter into such contrasting persona when one mere night was all that passed.

Still very much bewildered, he had beckoned the boy to approach and at a closer inspection, the answer had offered itself to his eyes. It had been saddening to see the boy concealing his anxiety with a mask of composure no one of his age should have mastered so skillfully. A child forced to maturity, he had assumed and been required to wonder what would happen now that the boy had practically no one to depend on.

And the similarity. His realization had surfaced immediately upon the first look with no need to peruse or question his memory further. Night blue hair falling classily about the pallid skin, then a pair of emerald eyes that held his gaze steadily with no traceable impertinence, and the proud outline of jaw and cheekbones framing the face which most assuredly would compel heads to turn and look at his direction; these features, the lord had been aware, was the traits only one old noble family inherited.

The Zala family, whose lineage at PLANT had ended ten years ago in a massacre which had yet to reveal its truth.

Once in awhile, he would feel this coldness crawling up his spine every time the particular incident was brought afresh to his mind. It was not pleasant at all to know that the security of PLANT could be so easily breached, because of course the slaughterer could not be one of the citizens. Despite their callousness in handling some matters, the family was generally liked. Furthermore, what kind of plan could easily sweep all members of family whose men were renowned as the best generals and commanders except a large-scale conspiracy?

It had been a time of chaos. A month before the incident, their Queen, Lenore Zala, had passed away when she had given birth and the long awaited crown prince – or princess, since no one could be sure – had been kidnapped by a Knight whose loyalty apparently did not lie with the King, leaving all present during the labor killed. The clandestine operation soon had been followed with the arrival of a demand for the King to withdraw ZAFT soldiers from every conquered OMNI cities and to relinquish Banadia, Gibraltar, and Jachin Due to the newly formed Alliance. However, in distress and anger of losing his wife, the King had refused and immediately dispatched troops to take over Victoria. The attack had failed and to him had been sent back the dead body of his son. The kingdom had had yet to recover from the loss when another heavy blow, the disappearance of the entire member of the Zala clan, strike.

However, the horror had not ended there. Two weeks after the unexplained disappearance, a patrolling guard had found each of the missing just outside the city gate, all covered by white cloth sullied by brown soil and dried blood, pale and lifeless.

It was rather surprising that the city had not plunged into absolute chaos afterwards.

The dark time had supposed to end by now, Lord Clyne had firmly convinced himself, but even after the King had taken a new queen consort, he vehemently rebuffed his Prime Minister's advice to cease the war. Nothing changed much in years and now, as he had stared at the enigmatic boy, questions began to rise.

In the end, the lord had to settle on the best guess he had been able to come up with. This boy, Athrun – now his name was at least known although there was no surname to follow – might be a son who had miraculously survived the Zala clan's carnage and no one knew about. Now that he had taken a liking to the child and his refined manner, the Prime Minister made a decision to adopt the boy since he had no son of his own. Nevertheless he had no proof of the boy's lineage and hence could do little but to announce formally that Athrun was the son of his distant relative who had married a fine Zala gentleman and lived at Jachin Due. The family had died in a carriage accident many years ago, but details were seldom fussed over there at PLANT as long as the incident did not happen in the city itself.

So far, nothing had roused in him the need to lament his hasty, possibly dangerous decision. His curious lineage aside, Athrun was the exact epitome of a wonderful son he had often dreamt. A boy who had made his precious daughter smile not the kind of gentle smile she offered everyone warmly, but a smile full of wonder, curiosity, and affection. Athrun was a promise that she would never again feel alone or neglected in the vast house.

That made him wonder sometimes.

Many young men, fine nobles and earls, had expressed their desire of his daughter's hand in marriage, each with their own numerous virtues and almost no lacking. Still, every time he observed her, he had a distinct impression that it was not her wish to do so. She was polite toward every one of them, yes, but entertaining no more than regular courtesy.

The Prime Minister frowned. This matter was actually quite a burden for his mind and had been plaguing him since Lacus reached a marriageable age. Many noble families, all wealthy and influential, set their eyes on her as a prospect to gain the alliance of the Clyne family. The fact that he had no legal heir – a son, so to say – encouraged them even more. Marriage proposals had been sent, some of them outrageously blatant while the others repulsively praiseful, but none he had accepted. To marry for politics was one thing he did not wish to happen to his beloved daughter.

Especially now when he saw her talking softly to her brother, with a smile she had never given to anyone else but those whom she held dear in her heart. The Prime Minister could not help but to smile, though a little wistful it was. This idea had often crossed his mind, at times relieving and yet at others also dimming his vigor. Such idea as marrying Lacus, he knew, would never come from Athrun's mouth for he was unfortunately ever conscious of his unclear, ambiguous status.

He sighed and disposed the matter from his thoughts for the time being. Lacus had excused herself to prepare the afternoon tea and so he turned to his foster son.

"Have you reported to the palace? The King must be proud of your accomplishment."

"Yes, as soon as I have arrived," Athrun replied, and then added with a quiet hint of reserve, "His Majesty did not seem to find me satisfactory."

The Prime Minister waved his hand dismissively. "Do not let that trouble your mind. He has never showed much fondness to anyone since the incident, so you are hardly at fault."

It was true, but Sighgell Clyne was not sure how far. He did not mention that it was the uncanny resemblance Athrun had with the late Queen Lenore which most likely stirred the dislike within the King's heart. His navy-coloured hair and emerald eyes were entirely the reflection of hers, but then again so were most of other Zala family members – or would have been if they had been still alive.

But Athrun was his son.

The Prime Minister smiled and put an arm around the young man who was already as tall as he was, and said, "Let us go inside. I am sure Lacus has prepared some refreshments for you. And after that I want you to rest and think nothing of war as long as you are home."

_Home._ He knew Athrun's melancholy smile was invoked by that word. But Athrun was his son, which meant that this was also his home, a place for him to return to.

And whether or not this young man would marry his daughter in the future, he would remain to be a son Sighgell Clyne would eternally be proud of.

**- To be continued -**

* * *

**Notes:** Here is my explanation concerning magic in this fic.

Everybody in this world obtains a blessing. He or she can major whether in magic or physical strength or both in reasonable level. Those with great powers possess either a Phidias or a Rerum. Both can only be used for a certain time (according to its wearer's power) and if it is spent, it will enter a dormant state for a while until it can be used again. There is a folklore that one can possess both Phidias and Rerum, worthy of the title 'Elite'. However, such things have not happened for as long as people can remember and thus it becomes merely a legend.

Despite majoring at one of the two aspects, everyone has their elements. Basically everyone can use magic but their elemental attack and defense are determined by their magic power. The four elements are Fire (mostly attacking spells), Water (both attacking and healing spells), Earth (attacking and defensive spells) and Wind (attacking spells and a few healing spells). Apart from their ability to conjure spells, this will also affect them in the nature of each element such as a Fire is superior to a Wind, a Water to a Fire, and so on in the order as mentioned above. As for how many spells each individual can master, it depends on their own magic power and their will to learn. For example, the difference between a soldier of ZAFT and a peasant. Even though both possess equal blessing since birth, if the soldier learn more about magic and spells, he will be more well-versed in magic compared to the peasant who most likely will have no need to deal with any magic in his life.

If you want to find a comparison with an RPG, it will be Suikoden, the best RPG in my opinion. I have to admit that many ideas for this fic come from that game. All hail Konami!

Thank you for everyone who has read and reviewed. Hope you still enjoy this chapter. Review again?

_Chapter 4: Kira and his group start their own adventure!_

---

**Yzak Jule**

Age: 17

Rank: Knight

Element: Fire

Origin: PLANT

Statistics: 

-- _Strength:_ 110 (excellent)

-- _Defense:_ 99 (good)

-- _Magic:_ 113 (excellent)

-- _Magic Defense:_ 108 (excellent)

-- _Agility:_ 121 (excellent)

-- _Accuracy:_ 92 (good)

-- _Stamina:_ 106 (excellent)

I will no longer include _specialty _in the stats as I realize that it most likely will change as the characters develop.


	4. Chapter 4

See DISCLAIMERS and WARNINGS in the first chapter.

* * *

**Fields of Feuds**

**Author: Jusrecht**

**Chapter Four**

**

* * *

**

"No."

Tolle's grin fell. "But, Ma'am–"

Rousia fixed him a stern look. "Listen to me, Tolle. I am hunted by the Alliance Guard as you have witnessed with your own eyes three days ago. I have no idea when my friend and I will be attacked again by these people and I most certainly do _not _want any of you anywhere near me when it happens. Do I make myself clear enough?"

The youngsters stared at her with various degrees of perplexity, to which Rousia did not intend to give further explanation despite her genuine sympathy to them. They were big enough, they would be able to earn their own keep, she tried to convince herself, and it was not by her and her comrades's side. These boys and girl definitely did not know what they were asking for when they requested for them to travel together. Not that she would enlighten them, since she was very aware of young men's bold but brash traits.

She was searching for a way to defeat the rebellious look Tolle was still sporting on his face when a soft voice rose. "Is there anything we need to know about you, Ma'am?"

Rousia looked at Milli without saying a word for a moment, and then pursed her lips and said firmly, "Yes, and it is not to get involved with me in any manner."

"You are unfair, Rousia-san," Tolle interjected, anger beginning to sharpen the edges of his voice. "Don't think that we are small kids who will need your constant protection. It was us who saved you three days ago in case you have forgotten. I honestly think that it will be safer for us to continue this journey together. Unless you can give us a really good reason why we should not, I'm not changing my mind."

Returning his glare with a calm look, Rousia said, "And if I do, will you promise me that you will forget this foolish idea?"

Tolle gave her a wide, defiant grin. "If and only if you manage to convince me that it _is _a foolish idea."

Aware that she would not get a better bargain, Rousia finally relented and stared at the boy hard. "Very well, but keep that promise of yours, Tolle, or I will eternally remember you as a man without honor." She cast a fleeting glance at the man beside her before returning her gaze at the youngsters and spoke with a steady voice, "Mira Rousia is not my real name. I am Murrue Ramius."

"Impossible!" Tolle's sudden outburst forced the others to turn and look at him quizzically. There was shock and wonder bordering on disbelief merging in his eyes. For a moment, the boy seemed to be struggling for words in his amazement, his stare never wavering from the grimly smiling woman before them. Then, with a voice that was a little above a hoarse whisper, he managed to croak out, "Murrue Ramius is the name of the leader of Archangel!"

"I assume you know about Archangel then?" her smile dimmed a little.

"Of course, the rebellion movement," Ssigh took the liberty to reply since Tolle seemed to be still beyond words. "That explains why you were targeted by the Alliance Guard."

They all descended into silence, pondering the fact that it was the leader of Archangel herself they were speaking to. Murrue sighed inwardly, knowing very well what would follow afterwards if her opinion about young people in general was right, and yet still clinging to what little hope she still retained in her heart that these youngsters actually had more sense than she thought.

"Then it's perfect!" Tolle suddenly exclaimed and Murrue was ready to groan in desperation now that she was faced with the reaction she dreaded the most. His eyes were gleaming brightly with enthusiasm as he continued in a rush of tumbling words, "We can go with you and join Archangel! You know what, we hate the Alliance and their terrible actions as much as you do and we do want to fight for our freedom! We can be spies, or whatever you want of us as long as we can fight the Alliance!"

"Do you really speak for your friends, Tolle?" Murrue asked calmly, conscious of the others's complete silence. "I don't think that they agree with you full-heartedly."

Finally realizing his friends's lack of reaction, Tolle turned to stare at them, disbelief and accusation warring in his eyes. His gaze stopped at Ssigh who returned it with an uneasy look and eventually said with a small, uncertain voice, "We have nowhere to go."

"Oh, Ssigh, not you too," Murrue protested as a grin bloomed on Tolle's face. She then turned to Milli who was eyeing her friends with an odd look. "Please tell me that you have more sense than these boys, Milli."

The girl did not respond for a moment, her eyes set unblinkingly on Kira who was also holding her gaze steadily. And then something that Murrue had thought she only would witness coming from noblest queens and princesses of old, flickered across her eyes, something between pride and determination, and she knew that she had no hope in her either. Milli smiled at her before saying, "Indeed I do have much more sense, but I want to meet Hibiki-san again. I think the odds are relatively bigger if I am to join the Archangel."

"If they go then I'll go," Kuzzey spoke up hurriedly once Milli had finished explaining her reason which, Murrue had to admit though reluctantly, was very reasonable.

Recognizing the approaching of defeat, she set a dark look on Kira and said, "It won't change anything if I ask you too, will it?"

"No," was the answer promptly and succinctly supplied by the young man's smiling mouth.

The man, Kojirou Mardock, suddenly spoke up after silently watching the exchange with more-than-little-amused eyes. "Captain, Reed and the others have just been discovered last week, right? We can't use them as spies anymore and to prepare a new identity takes times, so why don't we use their help? They are children still and the Alliance won't suspect–"

"Mardock!" the Archangel's leader cut in furiously, her face white with anger. "To use children in dangerous missions like spying is unforgivable! You know my policy clearly! How could you propose something like that?"

"Uh, sorry, Captain, just an idea," he murmured, abashed, but upon seeing the swelling wrath on his leader's face, hastily added, "Then why don't we bring them back to the HQ and discuss this matter further with the vice-captain? Maybe she has her own opinion about this."

"Natarle would already have your head if she heard that idea of yours," Murrue growled at him. Ignoring the now scarlet-faced man, she turned around and regarded the smiling youngsters with stern eyes. "Listen, all of you. I will not make my decision now since the situation is hardly conducive to make one. I need to return as soon as possible and so I will ask this for one last time: Are you sure you want to get involved in this? I dare say that a peaceful life is still waiting for you with open arms. It is a blessing to be able to live quietly without the need to fight and it suits you better. Think again."

But even as she said that, Murrue felt doubt fiercely gnawing the edges of her belief. Peace was wonderful, peace was a gift, but Kira's skills and Tolle's vivacity were not made for peace. Neither Ssigh's strong determination and his desire to protect. Milli's smile might speak differently under any other circumstance, but now it always had this one note lying quietly underneath: the safety of her master. It was strong enough, Murrue reflected sadly, to force her going through fire and ice and back again.

And Kuzzey. Kuzzey might choose peace if it was up to him, but friendship was stronger than his desire. It was the last thing he would abandon.

Murrue wondered if she had been as stubborn as them in her younger years and found herself smiling at the thought. Youth meant vigor and vigor usually also meant recklessness. There were those things which couldn't exist without the other. Their eyes clearly said so and the Archangel's leader always recognized defeat when she came face to face with it.

"I shouldn't be too surprised," she remarked dryly, earning beams and grins in return. She shrugged and from her small bag fished out a piece of parchment, on where she quickly scribbled a few short sentences. After folding it neatly into a small roll, she brought two fingers to her lips, suddenly whistling a long, shrill sound that fluctuated again and again at certain intervals. A moment later, an eagle appeared from the cluster of trees and dived right onto Murrue's hand, where it chose to perch ceremoniously.

Torii eyed the newcomer with mild interest, which was returned with regal aloofness and utter indifference, eliciting general amusement from the rest of the group who were watching the silent interaction. Murrue only smiled to her bird and tied up the letter to its right foot which was extended at her. The eagle waited patiently as the Archangel's leader repeatedly checked in case her knots were too loose.

"Fly, Helldart," Murrue then whispered once she had finished the meticulous examination, running her fingers along the brown-and-white feathers gently. "Go and give the letter to Natarle."

To everyone's astonishment, the eagle pecked her cheeks before taking its flight and soaring back into the sky. They watched until it disappeared among clouds and merry sunlight.

"We should leave too," Murrue broke the silence, returning all present attention to her. "Our journey will be ten days at least. For today, we should reach a village named Dersal before nightfall so we can spend a night there. I don't want us to sleep outside without a shelter since rainstorm can catch us anytime during this time of the year."

"Where are we going?" Tolle asked as he shouldered his own few belongings and precious bow.

Murrue threw him a small, enigmatic smile. "You'll see, young man."

The journey began at quite a high speed. At noon, they have covered more than a half of their intended distance for the day, according to Murrue. However, some obstacles took their turns to rise after lunch, one of them being fast weariness since none of the youngsters save Kira – and probably Milli – was used to long walking, accustomed to peaceful village life. The terrain did little to help, rising up and winding down with many small hills and slippery paths. When they went by the border of a small village, a group of passing Alliance soldiers forced them to hastily hide, which resulted in Tolle ending up in a pool of mud, courtesy to last night's rain.

"There has to be a reason why I got to hide there," he grumbled as he splashed cool river water to his soiled face.

Kira grinned apologetically after hearing the complaint. "Sorry, Tolle. I was about to grab you to hide up on the trees but you were running so fast into the bushes back then."

"At least they didn't notice us," Ssigh pointed out far too cheerfully to Tolle's liking.

The rest of their journey passed rather uneventfully save for the increasing strikes of exhaustion and a small snake which somehow had managed to get into Ssigh's bag. Tolle got a good laugh from the incident, more so when his friend threw him a sullen glare from the corner of his eyes. He only stopped when Milli gave him a hard look, followed by a short lecture about the threat of poisonous snakes.

"We can never journey quietly this way," Murrue said to Mardock, looking more amused than annoyed.

"Quietude and seriousness can kill you quickly," Tolle, who overheard the comment, remarked with a debatable degree of seriousness. "Just admit it, Ma'am. You're fond of us, aren't you?"

"At least I no longer have to put up with your noisiness today," she replied with a smile before then leaping deftly to a higher ground and pointing a finger toward a cluster of houses surrounded by trees that intermingled with each other under the reddening sky. "There is the village we're going to spend the night in. We only have to follow the road a little more to reach it. Let's go."

The village was indeed small, Kira noted, but bustling with end-of-day activities. It resembled Heliopolis so much with its small houses and chicken poultries and barns, and a mill that was running leisurely at the other side of the village, and with the only difference being the half-circle of palisade linking one end of a forest to another equally thriving, he couldn't help but to think of his home. Heliopolis had been his home for two years, the longest during those times of traveling with his master, and now he had lost a home again.

And a dear person. It had been Athrun and now his master. Kira wondered if he would lose another person close to him again.

Three Shepherds was a small inn located at the center of the village, across a busy grocery store. It had a rundown look from the outside, but Kira had to admit that the inside was rather heartening with a strong fire blazing in the hearth. Behind the front desk stood a man with short-cropped beard and a balding head who was scribbling figures on a bundled paper when they arrived. He looked up and beamed once he saw them.

"Welcome, travelers!" he greeted jovially. "How can I help you?"

"Is there any room available for us?" Murrue asked and glanced toward her party, silently counting and dividing them. "Three or four rooms would be preferable," she added.

The innkeeper consulted his list for a moment and then shook his head sadly. "A busy season, Ma'am," he explained with utmost apology even though it couldn't hide the delight in his voice about the current situation. "No one wants to spend the night in the rain or travel after nightfall in this area. We only have two rooms left for the night. Is that fine with you?"

"That's okay," Ssigh suddenly jumped into the conversation, words tumbling out of his mouth hastily. "You and Milli could take one room, Rousia-san, and the rest of us the other one. Mardock-san can take the bed because after all, we're the one who want to go with you."

"One room for the five of you?" Murrue repeated in disbelief. "That will be too much! Where will you boys sleep?"

"I'll never take the bed if you guys won't," Mardock said indignantly.

"The floor," Tolle piped in happily, ignoring the dark-skinned man's protest completely. "We're used to sleeping tightly together anyway. Besides, there is safety in numbers, right?"

"We can provide more blankets to cover the floor," the innkeeper supplied helpfully.

Murrue turned to the innkeeper, still determined not to be swayed by the boys for the second time in one day. "Is there another inn in this village? Or a place we can spend the night in?"

"No," he answered with another shake of his balding head. "This is the only inn in this village. There is another one in a nearby village, but it's quite far, about four hours of walk from here."

"It's okay, Rousia-san," Kira insisted. "Sleeping on the floor is better than traveling at night."

Murrue was still apprehensive – after all, _she_ had given her consent that the youngsters could go with her for now. They were her responsibilities now, but she had to admit that Kira was right. With a sigh, she finally gave in and said, "Very well. We'll take two rooms for the night."

The innkeeper clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Each is one hundred nect a night, including supper and breakfast. Loyle!" A short young man with plump, red cheeks appeared from the inner chamber, looking at his employer questioningly. The innkeeper waved a hand toward the other side of the inn and said," Show the guests their rooms, two at the end of the hall, and see to their needs. Enjoy your stay," he added to his guests.

Kira followed the servant after his friends with quiet strides, passing the tavern in process. The tables, plates filled with foods laid out plentifully on them, were crowded by laughing customers, most of them men wearing weather-worn cloaks. He spotted a few Alliance guards still wearing their uniform although quite obviously were off-duty and instinctively tried to cover his face, but a particular group of men caught his interest after he heard the word 'Heliopolis' muttered among the members. His paces halted for a while as he tried to listen for some more, determined to find out a little information about his hometown.

It was then when a flaxen-haired man turned at his direction, one of his hands holding a pint full of mead, blue eyes regarding him with subtle interest. Their eyes regarded each other for a moment before then the man raised his glass slightly, grinning, before taking it to his own lips and downed several gulps. Kira turned around and leave, not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping.

His friends had settled to their room when he arrived and now were arguing about the ownership of the bed with Torii fluttering above their heads as if thrilled by the quarrel.

"I said no! You guys are still children!" Mardock's loud voice rang above the others's and Kira winced a little at the volume. "What should I do if one of you is down 'cause of cold of something equally stupid? Don't be so stubborn just because you want to look tough!"

Ssigh was trying to explain, occasionally aided by Kuzzey's enthusiastic nods, when Tolle suddenly said, "Why don't we settle this with a little game of dice? Whoever loses will get the bed."

It was agreed by the majority vote and Kira had to bit back a laugh when Mardock earned his fourth consecutive losses.

"You did something with the dices, didn't you?" the older man glared at Tolle sharply.

"I did no such thing! How could you accuse me of committing that terrible crime?" the brown-haired boy was able to look aghast even though his eyes were twinkling merrily. Kira had to suppress another surge of laughter.

On that moment, the door was pushed open from the other side and Milli's face appeared on the threshold. "Kira, Ramius-san is looking for you. She said there was something she needed to talk about with you."

"Okay," he rose to his feet as Torii dived down from his perch up on the sideboard to land on his shoulders. The others, now joined by Milli, were still debating about the validity of the game when he left.

The Archangel's leader was sitting on the only chair in the room, reading a book he had often seen occupying the woman's hand during their three-days hiding in the cave near Heliopolis, when he entered after knocking a few times. She smiled at his arrival and offered the chair to Kira while she herself moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry for bothering you Kira. I suppose you're having fun with your friends at the other room?"

"No, it's okay," he took the offered seat as another laughter erupted from the room he had just left. "We're just trying to decide who is going to have the bed for tonight."

Murrue's smile widened a little before a slightly more somber look settling on her face, and she said, "I'm just curious about something. That bird of yours – Torii, isn't it? – may I ask for how long you have owned it? A spirit, right?"

Kira nodded. "Yes. A friend of mine gave Torii to me as a farewell present about eight years ago."

Pure astonishment flashed across Murrue's face. "Eight years ago?"

"Yes," Kira nodded once more as if to emphasize his answer. "Is there something wrong, Ramius-san?"

The older woman quickly smiled again. "You have to pardon me for asking. It's just that small spirits are often used to spy, if you know what I mean. I guess Torii has nothing to do with it then. But eight years ago, you said? From a friend of yours who was of the same age of you?"

"Yes."

Murrue went silent for a little while, her brow contorted into a small frown, and Kira wondered if he had said anything wrong. However, he was certain that Torii – and Athrun in this case – had nothing to do with those spying activities mentioned by the leader of the Archangel, although he had to admit that she had the right to have such suspicion.

"Maybe it's nothing," she murmured softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "As far as I know, spirits are created – or rather summoned – by magic. Torii is a small spirit, so it won't be too hard for one who is well-versed in magic to perform the summoning. But seven years ago means that this friend of yours was – what? Ten or eleven? Even if he knew a little magic, it is impossible for him – for _anyone_ – to keep the spirit existing in our world for such extended time, let alone if the summoner is nowhere near the summoned." She glanced at Kira who still had not said a word and added, "Seven years is plain impossible, Kira."

"Athrun had never learnt any kind of magic," he replied and then added uncertainly after a moment, "at least according to my knowledge. We had been close friends at the orphanage before my master came and took me."

There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath coming from Murrue. "Your friend's name was Athrun? Athrun Zala?"

"He didn't have a last name," Kira answered, slightly taken aback by the tone the older woman was using. "Many of us in the orphanage didn't. Mine was given several years ago by my master."

A train of polite knocks applied on the door from the outer side put a halt to their conversation. Murrue rose to attend to the door and Kira noticed her right hand set stiffly on her side as if ready to cast a spell if the need to do so arose. The small discovery told him a lot, one of them being the risks of involving himself with a rebellion group which was clearly as not easy as he had thought, and it settled an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kira was rarely scared, but to live like that, fearing of discovery every waking minute was a little too much.

He was still debating with the thought when Ssigh walked in, fingers fidgeting and an uneasy look vividly painted on his face. Repeatedly he glanced at Kira who returned them all with a blank look before finally starting.

"Rousia-san...no, I mean–"

Murrue held up a hand and said with a quiet smile. "I prefer you to keep calling me with that name actually. At least during this journey."

"Alright," Ssigh nodded and fidgeted some more. "Maybe this sounds stupid, but I just want to ask you something. Can we– I mean, is there any chance of getting news about Heliopolis once we have arrived?"

Her brows knitted together at the question, but she answered nonetheless. "Yes, we should be able to. Is something wrong, Ssigh?"

The young man quickly shook his head. "No, everything's fine. I'm just curious about something. No big deal, really," he said with a tone so wistful that it made Kira wonder why he had made the decision to come with them. He knew quite surely the reason of Ssigh asking, which had a great deal to do with a certain red-haired lady.

And at that moment, his eyes caught a shadow moving in the darkness of the hall outside from the half-ajar door left by Ssigh. He remained silent and darted his gaze back to Murrue who now was also staring at the door with palpable suspicion even though her position on the bed had made it almost impossible for her to notice any ongoing behind the door.

"Rousia-san?"

She looked at Ssigh who was eyeing her bewilderedly and quickly held up one finger to her lips before continuing in a calm voice, "I have some relatives in Heliopolis who probably can help you. What kind of news you wish to find out, Ssigh?"

Ssigh looked even more astonished, but Kira had caught the meaning behind her hurried words and quickly took the liberty to answer before his friend could voice any injurious question. "It's about a friend of ours, Rousia-san. She helped us out a lot back then and that might put her into some trouble."

"We should be able to find out then," Murrue replied, her eyes glinting meaningfully at Kira. "It will be easier if we know what we are looking for."

During this exchange, Kira had pointed toward the door unobtrusively with his eyes, aware that whoever standing outside would be able to see him as well. Murrue had responded with a frown at first, clearly receiving his message and opposing it vehemently, which Kira had only returned with a straight, stubborn look into her eyes. At the end of her words, she eventually nodded despite the frown decorating her temple and Kira rose, heading to the bed where Milli's small bag was set on the floor next to it as Murrue continued conversing with the other boy.

"A letter may take some times, Ssigh, but travelers always bring with them various news. There is a very good chance that we can learn something from them if they pass through Heliopolis. Who is this friend of yours if I may ask?"

Kira could hear his friend muttering a few explanations about someone who had helped them back then at Heliopolis as he crept back silently to the door, hoping that his worn out boots would cause no sound that might warn the eavesdropper of his intention. Once he was suitably positioned, Kira placed his right hand on the door, pulled it open and grabbed the person with the other hand using the entirety of his strength, all done in one fluid motion. Probably from being too surprised, the uninvited guest fell onto the floor with a loud thud and Kira, now with both hands capable to join the fight, managed to restrain the struggling man on the floor.

For a while the man was still trying to free himself out of Kira's iron grip but immediately ceased the effort once Murrue pressed a blade under his chin.

"Okay, I'm not going to run," he said with a sigh and for the first time Kira was able to take a good look at him. For some reasons, the golden hair that fell messily about the man's face did not surprise him.

The door across the hall flung open and Tolle rushed out, followed by the rest occupants of the room. "Kira! Ramius-san! What was that loud noise?" the brown-haired boy barged in with a small blade held between his fingers. His rapid questioning ceased when he noticed the stranger held down by Kira and the dagger in Murrue's hand.

"Ramius," the man repeated and suddenly chuckled, as if amused by the whole situation. He looked at the Archangel's leader with twinkling eyes and commented, "That is a well-know name, you know?"

"Are you a spy?" she asked curtly, pressing the blade closer to his skin.

"That depends on who you are, Ramius-san," the man winked at her, a bold – and ridiculous – move judging from the position he was in. Murrue scoffed and moved to squat next to Kira, putting a hand on the stranger's wrist. A glow appeared from her palm and a moment later, an almost bluish rope had circled the man's hand, linking one wrist to another.

"An advanced level of magic," he remarked with a definite level of amusement in his voice. "Shouldn't be too hard to guess who you are."

"You can let go of him, Kira," Murrue said shortly.

Kira stood up as the Archangel leader did the same to her captive's ankles, drawing out a surprised gasp from the yellow-haired man once he saw him. "You're just a kid! And I thought a giant crushed me with that strength!"

Ignoring the exclamation, Murrue asked sternly. "What are you doing outside our door?"

"Passing," the grin had returned to the man's face. "And then I heard your unbelievably beautiful voice and my interest was tickled to listen some more. I don't suppose it's a crime?"

She quirked a thin curve of eyebrow. "You don't actually think that your story is remotely believable, do you?"

The man feigned a deeply disappointed sigh. "Why do beautiful women always think praises and advances an honest man gives them with all of his heart as a lie?"

A stiff silence descended onto them as the leader of the Archangel stared coldly at her new captive. "Mardock, take him to your room and keep an eye on him," she ordered with a flat voice. "You may want to bind his legs too with those ropes we bring. We will decide what to do tomorrow."

Her dark-skinned subordinate nodded curtly and herded the blond man, who did not waste his chance for throwing her a full – although a little sour – grin across his shoulders, to the boys's room. Once the two men had disappeared behind the door to the other room, Tolle hastily turned to Ramius and said, "I'm sorry, Ramius-san, I don't mean to–"

"It's fine, Tolle," she quickly spoke up. "I think he already knew if he dared to eavesdrop. But this also means that we have a captive to watch for the rest of our journey."

"We can help Mardock-san to keep watch of him," Tolle suggested eagerly.

"No," Murrue set him a pair of stern eyes. "None of you is a member of Archangel as yet of now. The responsible is Mardock's and none of you should try to help him."

The boy was ready to raise another argument, but Milli, sensing this brewing trouble, put a hand on his shoulder and asked before Tolle could utter another word, "Are you planning to take him to headquarter, Ramius-san?"

"Well, I have to admit that is the most reasonable thing to do. While my name is rather well-known among the Alliance Guard, my face is not. I can't risk an exposure now."

"The soldiers we left at your home!" Ssigh suddenly exclaimed, a look of utter horror residing on his face. "We completely forgot about them! They knew your face, didn't they?"

"No, my Rerum makes certain that such things will not happen, but let's not discuss such things for now," she decided and ushered all the teenagers toward the door. "Why don't you have something to eat at the tavern? It's getting late and we ought to go to bed soon so we can leave at the first daybreak tomorrow. Oh, and Kira?" she turned to the boy with a small smile. "Thank you for your help earlier."

"It's nothing, Ma'am," he nodded courteously, but instead of leaving afterwards, he remained standing at the threshold with a troubled look and spoke up again when Ramius was about to ask. "There is something I think I must tell you, Ram– I mean, Rousia-san." He paused, glancing toward the closed door across the hall before continuing, "That man from earlier, I believe he could get away from me if he wanted to. He was strong enough to do that and I happened to notice that there was something on his left arm. It looked like a Phidias if you ask me."

"Yes, I notice that too," Ramius replied with a sigh. "That alone is enough to convince me that he isn't an ordinary man. But you don't have to worry about him for now. Why don't you join your friends downstairs for dinner?"

"Won't you join us?" he asked before leaving. "I will bring up some food for Mardock-san later so if you want to eat here..."

"No, it's alright, I'll be down in a moment," she answered quickly. "Thanks, Kira."

The boy smiled at her and Ramius was forced to face a sharp realization which had just dawned on her. She stared at her door, listening to Kira's waning footsteps absentmindedly, and questioned herself with the degree of harshness she often displayed toward her irresponsible subordinates, how she could allow this to happen while it was herself who forbid anyone else to take this step.

That she had thought of Kira, a seventeen year-old boy, as a member of the Archangel.

- To be continued -

* * *

**Note: **Thank you to **Shadir** who wrote me an extremely long review e-mail and everyone else who has reviewed. Review again?

_Chapter 5: Another day in the life of Athrun Zala before just another war.  
_

---

**Ssigh Argyle**

Age: 18

Rank: None

Element: Wind

Origin: Heliopolis

Statistics: 

_-- Strength:_ 107 (excellent)

_-- Defense:_ 93 (good)

_-- Magic:_ 87 (good)

_-- Magic Defense:_ 84 (good)

_-- Agility:_ 82 (good)

_-- Accuracy:_ 71 (average)

_-- Stamina:_ 104 (excellent)


End file.
